


Termination by Mutual Agreement

by Syntheticserendipity



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Conspiracy, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fake Marriage, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Marriage of Convenience, Multi, Mystery, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2020-03-09 12:16:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18916807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syntheticserendipity/pseuds/Syntheticserendipity
Summary: “I’m a social pariah whose business no one wants. You’re a public figure without a lick of power but together, we can be more than the sum of our parts Granger.” When Malfoy proposes they fake a sham marriage, Hermione is all too eager to game the system the way it has played her but pretending to be happy couple in the limelight may come with a price no one wants to pay.





	1. ONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Wizarding world is changing, at least on the surface. Draco finds himself in the middle of a social maelstrom after a mistake that leads to dire consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There WILL be language-bad language.
> 
> *Edited to change Isabelle's name to Austoria. Important plot requirement. Also edited for formatting and a spelling error.

“Absolutely not!” Draco exclaimed, pacing the room.

“Well you have to do something,” Amaro Vasquez claimed seriously.

Demitria sat opposite to Vasquez and said nothing but nodded in agreement.

“This is absolutely absurd! I cannot afford to spend a month lounging in a rehabilitation center. That is basically like admitting guilt!” He didn't stop pacing. In fact, it seemed he was intent on wearing his tracks into the carpet.

“Hmmm,” Demitria hummed to herself, brainstorming again. They’d outlined several ideas on the board, trying to help Draco extricate himself from the mess he’d made. They’d been in this room so many times and sat in the same chairs in the same orientation that the seats were beginning to indent to the shape of her bum. She tapped her lower lip with her wand, pondering how to get this petty man-child out of yet another situation he’d gotten himself into. 

When she’d signed on to this job as a veteran PR specialist at just 29, she’d assumed she wouldn’t be used much but merely be kept on hold in case of minor PR incidents. She had always known that ‘PR’ was just a nice way of saying that she’d have to do anything within her power to keep her boss’s image squeaky clean, whether it be greasing some palms or finding other more imaginative solutions. She hadn’t expected however to have sat in the same room almost every other month resolving one PR nightmare after another all because the BBB (Big Blond Baby as Vasquez and her had taken to calling Draco) couldn’t bloody well keep it together.

She wondered if he had ever been anything more than a man-child - if he had once actually been the man she had admired and aspired to work for or if he had merely had an excellent PR rep who managed to keep his image squeaky clean. No wonder the previous guy had quit. No amount of money in the world could save one from the endless nightmare that was Draco Malfoy. For the last three years all of Draco’s indiscretions and mistakes had been kept under wraps thanks to the diligent work of the dynamic duo seated in that very room.

“I agree with Draco,” Demitria said. Amaro’s head shot up at that and he eyed his partner with a look of betrayal. She was seriously taking the BBB’s side instead of his?

“I don’t think that dumping a ton of money into a charity is going to fix this one. And I don’t think that entering a racial-rehabilitation program will look any better on your image than if you had outright insisted that Mudblood is the correct term to use,” she clarified, “In fact, this is quite serious. Because of the...incident-” Incident was quite the euphemism for this debacle but mean words would only make the BBB less inclined to listen to their reasoning, “-we need to take a more...hardlined measure of the situation”.

Incident indeed. The only reason that an angry mob wasn’t out for the BBB’s blood was because of some seedy manipulation of digital media on her and Amaro’s part. What an absolute disaster, being caught using that nasty word on a live feed being played by millions of people millions of times.

They’d doctored several versions of that tape and had thrown in some rumors about polyjuice and alcohol to dilute the flow of information but that had merely prevented a mob situation spiraling out of control. It didn’t mean that people would continue to buy products from companies owned or collaborating with Malfoy industries.

In fact, the Together United, Divided Defeated and the Magical Equality movements were throwing a huge fit about blood inequalities in the Wizarding world and they had just decided to make Draco the brand ambassador to embody the imagery of their enemies. Now look at this evil, rich, handsome pureblooded devil. Isn’t he just so easy to hate? 

Integrated social technology and mad mobs had exacerbated what would have otherwise been a contained event. It was so much harder to grease palms quietly and deal with this old-school when modern technology was involved. Dimitria once again cursed the creators of MagicNet as the common folk called it. It felt so bizzare -this new world. Not too long ago Wizarding schools like Durmstrang, Hogwarts and Aadhivaasi didn’t permit muggle technology on their premise. Now wizarding youths all had cell phones and social media accounts, although there were still very strict prohibitions on interacting and revealing wizarding information to muggles.

Draco’s blunder had been absolutely colossal. The language he, well...they, typically reserved for home had slipped out in public and he had accidentally said ‘Mudblood’ instead of ‘Muggleborn’. Such a shame too considering his exact statement was ‘I believe Mudbloods should be treated with as much dignity and consideration as any wizard, pureblood or otherwise’. Man that had not gone over as it should have, given the racist terminology.

When she was studying at Beauxbatons, they had used that word with reckless abandon. Sometimes as a curse word, sometimes as a word to refer to their closest comrades. Now it was socially objectionable. Oh how the world had changed in just a few years.

“Such as..?” Amaro raised an eyebrow at her.

She cleared her throat. Draco was never going to agree to this suggestion.

She fiddled with her pinkie ring before addressing both men.

“I think you need to date or marry a muggleborn. That way you will-”

“No no no no no!” Draco was back to pacing again. “Your response to me using the wrong word by accident is to punish me for the rest of my life?” 

Demitria wondered if she imagined that his voice cracked at the end.

“Marrying a muggleborn is not a punishment,” Demitria insisted, trying not to roll her eyes. Why was this man-child...no...man-baby so dense? “You would be married for a short term and then part amicably,” just as she had done with her girlfriend a few months back she thought bitterly. 

Her heart gave a lurch as she thought momentarily of that that heavy straight hair caressing her breasts then her belly as her girlfriend drew a hot trail of kisses dow-

-“Let me get this straight. In order to rehabilitate my image, you want me to find and marry a muggleborn? First of all, how do we know that this comment has actually affected Malfoy Industries or any subsidiaries? Secondly, do you really think people would believe this insane stunt and why can’t we just date instead of getting married? And third, I will absolutely not be marrying her!” Well, him arguing back was a good sign because it meant he hadn’t outright dismissed the idea however distasteful.

“Who is this her?” Vasquez interrupted as the brunnette breathed in to counter.

Draco looked just as surprised as either of them and then cleared his throat, clearly unwilling to answer.

“So here’s the dose of reality that you hired me for.” Demitria clasped her hands and leaned in. If you had been anyone, anywhere else, anytime else, you would not need to go to such extraordinary lengths to save your image but you are in fact who you are. You’re the son of a former death eater - reformed but former nonetheless,” she quickly corrected herself as he turned to interrupt her. 

For Merlin’s sake, she had been the one to insist he use the term ‘reformed’ rather than ‘former’. “You are rich and pureblooded and male in a time when it is best to be poor or muggleblooded or both. Additionally you’ve made several comments and have had several incidences in the past few years. And your well known enmity with Harry Potter, the savior of the universe, has put you at odds with...well, everyone. People are just waiting for you to give them a reason to hate you”

Before either Amaro or Demitria could respond or counter, Draco stopped.

“No, this isn’t going to work. Figure out something else.” And he was out of the room.

Demitria looked at Amaro and they both let out a deep sigh. She put her head in her hands, growling in deep seated frustration.

“And to think you thought this job would be dull huh Di?,” Amaro laughed.

“Well, at least I’m kept entertained and on my feet,” She smiled tightly.

***

Amaro smiled dashingly at Hansen Spielberg, the sixty something year old bat who headed Draco Malfoy’s board of directors. She looked something like a cross between a bird and a shark. She had a nose that looked a bit like a beak and he supposed he imagined her to be some form of shark because of the way she took bites out of you during almost any and every conversation you had with her.

But he hadn’t been bequeathed the name Sooravali for nothing. His Tamil mother probably knew he’d one day be the harbinger of deception and destruction. Draco was just lucky to have employed him before anyone from the board did. Sooravali may have been exceptionally devious but he was also fiercely loyal. Probably a trait he’d inherited from his sweet Argentinian father.

“Ms.Spielberg,” Amaro inclined his head. “Vasquez,” Hansen responded snappishly. Man, for a Hufflepuff, she sure behaved like a bloody snake. Or maybe that was because Hansen had been bitten one too many times by the vipers and had learned the hard way to wear her armor.

For the next two hours, the board discussed business, trajectories, future plans...etc. Amaro tuned most of it out as he usually did but he watched every person in the room like a fucking hawk. Mostly he paid attention to people’s faces and their postures. This room always had special bug cameras dispersed around it, recording their meetings. This was all done with Draco’s approval of course. 

The purpose of these bugs was to help Amaro determine the unspoken desires and intentions of the board. He then used such hints to dig up information on said board members. They’d been able to evade several close calls and disasters in this manner. Amaro could feel the tension rising in the room as people began to bristle as the meeting came to its natural conclusion. No doubt what was on everyone’s mind. But Draco had come prepared with some excuses, explanations and readied the usual ‘I won’t do it again’ speech which had worked before. 

“And for a final matter of business,” Astoria Greengrass stood up. A pureblooded majestic creature - she was tall, brown hair cascading down her length and almost the mirror image of what Amaro imagined a Nordic goddess might look like. When she stood next to Draco, she looked like she could be either his sister or his perfect other half. Amaro had wanted to take her to bed in the past but Astoria held herself to another level. Even Draco was unable to bed her. Perhaps that was what was so desirable about her. She couldn’t be flushed out of one’s system because she wouldn’t enter that system.

“I call on a vote to terminate Draco Malfoy as the CEO of Malfoy Enterprises,” Although she attempted to look sincere, Astoria only managed to look smug. Amaro and Draco both started.

“What’s the basis of this,” Draco managed to keep his temper under control but Amaro could feel the tension in his aura rising. It made him deeply uncomfortable. He often wondered if this is why people feared the Malfoys. It felt like the air was...crackling. 

There was something innately dangerous in the atmosphere as if if someone were to light a match for a cigarette, the air would spontaneously combust. Everyone in the room had known this was coming except Amaro and Draco so this sudden change in magic and temperature had to be almost entirely Draco’s.

Amaro glanced at Hansen who seemed to be studiously ignoring him. The fucking bitch. They all knew and were going to vote against him.

“I thought it was fairly obvious,” Astoria intoned, her accent becoming slightly nasally with the effort not to snort or roll her eyes.

“That incident was an accident,” Draco hissed, his voice almost quivering with unleashed fury.

“We know all about your accidents Draco,” Now Hansen spoke up. Amaro’s eyes narrowed. So did Draco’s as he whirled to face her.

“Oh come now, you didn’t think we wouldn’t find out did you? I suggest that next time you’re a bit more careful with who you let into your circle.”

Draco’s eyes twitched towards Amaro for half a second.

“Oh don’t worry. He didn’t let your secrets out. Amaro is as useful as a pencil in place of a screwdriver but he’s painfully loyal just like a dog. It’s your spending budget. You’ve paid off so many lose mouths with company money which was kept for emergencies like this but you can’t imagine that we wouldn’t know or notice”

Now it was Amaro’s time to fume silently. If he had been in any other room, he’d have probably been strangling Hansen right about now. He indulged in that fantasy for a few moments.

“This debacle is not going away. In fact, you and your little PR team may have even made it worse and more noticeable with your little tampering.”

“Why you little fucking cun-”

“I’d think twice before finishing that statement Draco,” Hansen warned him. This crone, who had probably been old during the age of the dinosaurs, had watched Draco grow up. Amaro couldn’t understand how she could do this to him.

“I think you have a lot of issues to sort through. And this position will be here when you’re done figuring things out with yourself.”

“I don’t need to figure things out. What I need is support from the fucking company that I own, that my ancestors built.That my FATHER BUILT. THAT I FUCKING BUILT”

“And it will be here and we will be here to support you after you’ve cleaned up your image. Think of this as an extended vacation”

“So who’s going to run things when I’m gone huh? Is it going to be you Hansen? Or you Robert? Maybe you’ll take over Rory? You’ve always wanted to fuck me. I’ve only now realized in what way”

Astoria didn’t didn’t bother hiding the grin.

“For Merlin’s sake Draco! Watch your tongue,” Goddfrei was 72 and not used to the language the board typically used. Even Hansen was younger than him and Hansen was as old as the bloody sun.

“We’re not pushing you out Draco. We see that you’re enormously stressed. You haven’t taken a vacation in years. You’ve been working so much, your skin is turning even more pale. Soon you’re going to be freaking translucent!”

“So what’s the vote huh?” Draco hissed at them generally.

Unanimous, that’s what it was.

***

Draco was angry-walking down the corridor. Amaro practically had to jog to keep up with him. He was sure this was the end. Draco was going to fire him for not paying attention to the board when he was supposed to. He really hadn’t had a clue. Maybe the mistake was in having him be present for the meetings where everyone knew what purpose he was there for. They probably knowingly concealed themselves. 

There had been nothing on their social media presences, they hadn’t had any odd transactions or secretive texts. Or….maybe they had and Amaro hadn’t noticed because he was too busy fixing the stunt Draco had pulled. Di might’ve been an wizard (literally and figuratively) when it came to spinning a story but the woman was so technologically backwards she’d probably have an aneurism if she spent more than a week in muggle London. He’d saved Draco on more than one occasion but it only took one bad situation to be fired. 

“Alright,” Draco said on their elevator ride down. Amaro opened his mouth, thinking he had been talking to him.

“Where are you going?”.

“To get a fucking drink! What do you think?”

Amaro, against his screaming intuition, followed.

***

Draco and Amaro apparated to knockturn alley which was nowadays filled with hippies and with the liberal genepool. Some parts of knockturn alley were still almost completely inaccessible by the general public and you had to be someone to get in but Draco wasn’t interested in buying some extravagantly priced dangerous garbage. He walked into the closest pub and taking a seat at the bar.

“Wingshot, neat” Draco called to the bartender. In Draco’s silent fury, he’d failed to notice the sudden deadly silence that hit the bar like a blast of cold air.

“Here, it’s on me. You can drink this but then you have to leave,” the bartender looked at Draco intently. The young man’s bushy moustache was twitching slightly. Draco looked up from the drink he had been handed.

“Why the fuck should I leave. My money’s as good as anybody’s” He snapped and proceeded to take an exaggeratedly slow drag of his drink.

“Your money not as good as anybody elses you stupid Squig,” Someone called out.

Draco whipped around. Fury blinding him. Squig was about as close to a mudblood equivalent for a pureblooded as one could get. It went back to the days where Squib children were mutilated to try to try to enhance them into becoming magical.

“Draco,” Amaro warned, grabbing hold of Draco. He could envision the headlines now. Draco Malfoy curses teens at bar following a heated discussion.

“Get off me,” Draco shoved his hand out of the way and Amaro put himself in between Draco and the jeering crowd. Everyone at the bar was either jeering or quietly watching the spectacle now.

“Get out of here Death Eating scum. Go fuck yourself on Voldemort’s cock,” Some dirty faced witch yelled, protected by the mob of friends she had surrounding her.

‘Deatheating scum’ became the term of the day as several people began yelling it at intervals.

“I am not a fucking Death Eater!” Draco yelled into the crowd.

“My mum was killed by a fucking Death Eater you fucking Squig,” some tall boy, barely out of his teens had decided to distinguish himself from the crowd.

“Get out of this bar or I’m gonna bash your head in with my bare hands,” This time it was a massive hulk of a wizard. The guy was built like a fucking machine which was uncommon for wizards considering they typically didn’t need to lift a finger to do any amount of work. Draco wondered if he was possibly a squib.

“I’ll stay here as long as bloody well please! You can’t discriminate against me. I’ve done nothing wrong!”

“It’s people like you who are trying to destroy our world!” The level of animosity and hatred emanating from this hulk was enough to make anyone think twice about staying at the bar.

“I heard your mother likes it up the ass and mouth at the same time. Isn’t that how you Malfoys like to do it? The question is, does your mum like you in the front or the rear?”

“If I could, I’d twist your body on a pole and impale you ass to mouth you motherfucking piece of shit,” The man growled at him menacingly.

“I was never tried for any crimes. Are you going to dispense mob justice in place of the Wizengamot court? Are you goi-”

The man darted forward and grabbed Draco by the neck, slamming him against the bar and repeatedly punching Draco in the face.

The man was screaming nonsense into Draco’s face. Amaro stood helplessly as the bigger man continued to pound away at Draco's face.

Draco had been in the Great War. He’d been on both sides of it and had fought in the front lines, his life on the line. He’d survived on more than dumb luck and favors from strangers. He was a beast when it came to quick successive war spells which was why as the hulk attempted to punch a hole through his head, Draco disarmed his wand and paralyzed him where he stood. Suddenly the big man who was at least a foot and a half taller than him couldn’t move though it was obvious by his frantic eyeball action that he was conscious through it all.

Draco climbed daintily on the bar top, stooping to pick up his drink.

“Cheers,” He called, downing the burning concoction in one go. Spells were now flailing left and right, people aiming in his general vicinity. Most of them missed but some of them hit him and Amaro didn’t know if he was imagining it or not but he seemed to enjoy being hurt. What the fuck was on with Draco. He’d been a bit mad to begin with but this was on another level entirely.

Amaro projected a quick defensive shield that had to be recast every few feet that Draco went. Even that little effort exhausted him so he could only cast twice before he had to give up and watch Draco get hit, laughing at times as if the spells tickled instead of burned. Most of Amaro's magical work specialized around digitalization of magic which allowed him to harness magic without actually having to channel it. He often thought of it as a sort of 'trick' to the nature of things. A particularly nasty cutting spell found its way onto Draco’s cheek and the blood from his cheek was now blending in with the caked mess on his nose.

Draco casually strolled up and down the bar, his face streaming blood, grinning like a mad man.

And once he was satisfied with this strutting, he jumped down, patted the hulk on the back and released the spell. The man fell on his bottom with a thud.

Draco leaned in to whisper something in his ear and the strongman looked up at him, shock and fear revealing itself. Draco grinned and patted his bald head before walking out- the perfect impersonation of someone quite insane and un-tamable.

“List of candidates by tomorrow!” Draco called, his demeanor no longer depicting the happy insane man he had been moments ago.

Amaro guessed that was a thin facade to hide against a greater truth perhaps. He’d had more than enough of Draco Malfoy for the day so he happily complied. He made a mental note to let Di know about the insanity that had transpired at the shady pub. Something was deeply wrong with Draco in a way that neither of them had expected or guessed. And no amount of PR control could change a subject who insisted on enduring both physical and non-physical forms of destruction.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, if you liked the chapter please drop me a line in the review! I'm very excited for this new fic and plan on seeing it through to the end! It was inspired by an episode of Sword and Scale which was frankly too depressing to think about for too long. Thankfully while this might be dark, it's not going to be as dark as the real life story it is loosely based off of.
> 
> Also, I thought I’d introduce a few unique original characters with multifaceted personalities and agendas. I hope that will be interesting to you guys.  
> And major points if you can guess my profession by the end of this fic :P


	2. TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco receives more bad news followed by a novel and undesirable proposal. Hermione learns that this new world where wizards are socially castrated for their bigotry doesn't extend its benevolence to those they proclaim to love and accept. Perhaps she ought to accept the golden ticket after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rareandrandom - this chapter is for you! Thanks for your comment and your encouragement :) 
> 
> And thank you to everyone for your kudos. Hope you all like this chapter.  
> Also, is anyone interested in being my beta editor?

Draco found himself staring down at the parchment in his hands. True to their word, Demitria and Amaro had compiled a list of eligible women for him to date or marry. He vaguely remembered agreeing to this absurd pitch the night before and once again chided himself for taking _Ovine_. He’d been unable to wean himself off of the drug and took it periodically whenever he became  deeply stressed, which these days was almost weekly . Draco sighed deeply, wanting to take a nap that lasted an eternity.

He kept these thoughts to himself. The last time he’d expressed something like that, Lucius had sent him to a mental health hospital, fearing that Draco might tear into his veins and bleed himself in a mansion tub. As if he’d do anything so uninspired as that. If Draco were to go, and he’d thought a lot about this, he’d probably lunge off of some tower in the middle of Times Square. He still thought about doing it, ending it sometimes but not nearly as often as those early days when he still felt the stifling burden of his loss much more keenly.  

Draco refocused on the alphabetically organized list, reading rapidly through the names.It was logical that he would find _her_ name on it. 

Freja Hammarskjöld

Hasini Subramanian

Harriette Madson

Helen...

He had been sure that the most well known muggleborn witch in the UK would be on the list of eligible bachelorettes. Instead she was conspicuously absent. Was she otherwise engaged? Draco said nothing, not wanting to raise Demitria’s suspicions. That woman was like a bloodhound, able to sniff a story from a mile away He was just curious why Hermione Granger, his arch nemesis, was not on this list. He itched to cross her name off of the list as a symbolic rejection even if wasn’t to her face. 

He’d thought of the golden trio often, especially of Hermione and of their shared histories though he hadn’t talked to her in several years.  

So instead he asked, “What was the criteria for the list?”

“Anyone with good standing in the press, preferably a well known personality. Somewhat physically appealing. Good family background. The usual. Oh...and someone who was...either pureblooded or half-blooded.” 

“Is there a reason you didn’t include anyone with less witchblood than half-bloods?” Draco found that he liked the term ‘witchblood’ which was now the politically correct phrase to use. He liked to imagine himself filled to the brim with witchblood, as if if he bled, he bled magic. In reality, blood purity didn’t have any correlation to magical abilities or skill. He knew that just by looking at Crabbe and Goyle and the grand batch of Weasleys. All of them were grossly inadequate when, based on the purity equations taught by Voldemort, they should have been exceptional. 

“We didn’t think it would be a good...match,” Demitria managed. The woman had a remarkable ability to say offensive things without offending.  Recently Draco had found himself lacking that ability. Lately he seemed to only be able to do the reverse. “We didn’t think your parents would approve if you were matched with someone...that far below your ...status.”

He nodded, not wanting to press the issue. It had been many years since he took over Malfoy Industries and his parents had virtually no say over any issue associated with him. Not after his father had led a murderous serial killer into their house and almost destroyed their family and their reputation.

“Although you might want to consider the half-bloods first,” she added, “A pureblood wife really isn’t going to give you the social leverage  you need.”

He frowned. She was right. Since the fateful board meeting, he’d learned Malfoy Industry stocks had plummeted and some political groups were even calling for a boycott of Malfoy goods that were sold directly to customers. Even though the board had given him an _‘extended vacation’_ people still saw him as the face of his company and wanted little to do with it. He couldn’t help but feel vindicated with this turn of events.Draco had plans to fix his image and revitalize his company.

He’d been discussing several large collaborations with other companies owned by his father’s close associates. Families like the Flints, the Smiths, the Parkinsons and others. He wanted to shift the business away from products that were sold directly to customers and instead towards manufacturing or providing parts of products so that his image was not so important as his product. His father told him at every available opportunity that this PR mess wouldn’t have been on anyone’s radar had he conducted business the _old_ way. And by old he meant illegal.

“Well, I’ll see you tonight,” Demi said, leaving to presumably get ready for the annual Squib Foundation gala hosted by the Squib Relocation and Research center (the RSS). It aimed to raise awareness and money for squib relocation and research. In the past, squibs were discreetly abandoned in muggle villages to be cared for by the muggles as they were considered muggles themselves. Richer families would sometimes set up a fund though few kept in touch with their squib children. In the modern era, squibs were relocated into squib exclusive societies so that their wizard parents could still mix with them. To be considered a squib one had to have no magical abilities.

This didn’t include the magically-challenged, a rather misleading term to describe witches and wizards with poor magical abilities. Draco had thought such people were just lazy in their studies...well until he’d met Amaro and his ability to manipulate electronics, a task even Draco wasn’t able to accomplish. Amaro couldn’t even cast a proper lumos if it wasn’t directly attached to an outlet. But he could manipulate every piece of electronic that he came into contact with. 

Draco waited for Demitria to leave before pulling out a box of Altoids where he’d brilliantly stashed his _Ovine_ pills. He popped one in for good luck. 

 

***

 

“Marcus!” Demitria called pleasantly, her voice barely making it above the constant hum of the bar. Marcus found her by her shout and made his way to her booth. He sat down, grinning widely, his iconic teeth gleaming in the muted light. “It’s been a while huh Dems? I hear you’re working for those soulless Malfoy’s now aye.” 

Demitria sneered. “Most certainly! I do indeed work for that conceited prat and I think it’s time for a little payback don’t you think?” She teased out a sly smile. 

His wolfish grin had the hunger of a predator. 

 

***

 

Draco felt incredibly sleek in his black tux, his blond hair shining especially bright. It was probably the holy glow of his brilliance. Draco was sure that by the end of the night, the board would be beginning for him to come back. He would acquiesce of course but not before making Rory bow down in submission. He grinned wickedly at that thought. The thought that she might be on the ground, looking up at him with those hungry eyes he’d seen countless times, right before she reached out and-

“Draco!” Daphne startled him with her sudden squeal. Her towering body resembled that of her sister. He distinguished them solely based on their hair color. Well that and their personality.  One was dumber than a brick and the other was more venomous than a viper.  

He didn’t think he’d ever get used to Daphne thinking them as friends. That was a false notion he was ready to divest her of. He wasn’t particularly fond of either sister though he’d fantasised about them both individually and together. He’d imagined them coiled around him, straddling him and pleasuring them in every manner. He supposed it was both a common and a disgusting fantasy given its incestual overtones. 

It was hard not to given how stunning Astoria was. Her sharp blade like mind was an added benefit. He seemed to have a penchant for difficult women, especially those that didn’t like him. Daphne was of course just the pretty add-on.

“Daphne,” He said tartly. 

“Have you heard the big news?” 

“What? Have you found a husband to sink your claws into?”

She laughed dismissively, “I’m going to be heading the _Genetic Inheritance of the Squib Condition_ project!”

Draco looked at her questionably, unable to believe that someone who probably shared the same brain cell on rotation with Crabbe and Goyle, could possibly secure such an impressive position at the WI. He wasn’t in the science field, not by a long shot, but he’d kept abreast of every biomagic development in the last three years. 

Ever since- 

“Draco!” Blaise called out. Draco refocused his vision on Blaise who was fast approaching to his rescue. 

“Blaise, how are you?” Draco said, the two men offering each other a firm shake. 

“Excuse us Daphne”

They walked together towards the balcony where there were fewer people milling around.

“Are you ready to make the big announcement?” Draco asked Blaise, cutting straight to the chase.

“Well how are you Blaise? I’m good Draco, how are you? How are your parents doing?” Blaise pratted on sarcastically but good-naturedly. 

Draco rolled his eyes. They’d been friends for a long time which afforded them a type of security that few Slytherins had the opportunity to share.

“Draco,” Blaise pursed his lips, suddenly serious,”I’m afraid I can’t make the announcement today”

“Can’t make it today...or can’t make it ever?”

“...I can’t collaborate with you on this project. I...the publicity is going to crush me, especially after…”

“After?” Draco was suddenly anxious. He’d spent several months setting up these meetings with potential investors and collaborators to work with him on his next few projects. He’d been starved for collaborators for almost a year now. Draco had managed to alienate so many people that the only reason he still had contacts was because of Lucius’s good name (what a joke) and their fear that Lucius might reveal their shady dealings now that he had nothing to lose from it. Draco had still managed to hope that so long as a few investors took a chance on him, he’d be able to reroute his business and pivot on its success.  

But if his oldest and closest friend wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole, what were the chances that anyone else would work with him on a legal venture. Legal being the operative word since the offers to collaborate on illegal ventures had never dried up. In fact, he had more offers now than he had at the beginning of his track to legitimize _all_ Malfoy owned businesses. 

“Look Draco, you didn’t hear it from me and I didn’t set this into motion...but Marcus Flint is moving against you. He’s going to publicly denounce you and your company for that incident.”

“This again?”

“Everyone is just going to take advantage of your situation to the best of their ability.”

“And I suppose everyone includes you doesn’t it?” Draco couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. Blaise looked at him pleadingly and then unexpectedly and very uncharacteristically Blaise grabbed his hand.

“Draco,” he stressed, squeezing Draco’s hand until Draco got the message, “I have to.” 

Draco swallowed his irritation and squeezed back before growling loudly at his friend. “You’re a real snake you know. I would have thought my oldest and best friend would have stayed by my side.” But his squeeze had done the job. Draco turned away in a facade of anger and Blaise continued to look guilty.  

“Hope we’re still on for our trip this winter! I can’t wait for ski season,” Blaise said lightly but Draco could see there was no glint in his eyes. This facade was just that-a mask that Blaise wore that most people, surprisingly, did not see through. Draco looked at his friend, hard, and nodded. “Yes we’re still on.” He could feel his blood running a marathon in his veins and he barely reigned it in. He could never understand how Blaise hadn’t jumped off of a building or burned one down. He’d been so furious with him initially when everything had happened. All the shit that bound them. He’d assumed he was the only angry one. The only hurt one but he’d been stupid and callous. He’d always worn his emotions on his sleeve and that’s what had gotten him in so much trouble. 

A sudden hush descended on the hall, precipitated by a lady walking on the stage wearing a shimmering gold dress that reflected so much light that Draco was reminded of a chandelier. Her hair was done up in a flapper style era of twisting curls and was complete with a band. 

“Thank you everyone for attending the Annual Squib Research and Relocation fundraiser. We thank you very much for your donations. Without you, it wouldn’t be possible to do the good work that we do. As you know, each year we spend millions relocating and settling squibs, our own non-magical children, into the muggle world. We spend millions on their upkeep and their wellbeing. And each year we pump billions into squib research to find a cure for Squibism. Each year we get closer to that goal thanks to sponsors such as yourself. One day we will be able to welcome Squibs into our society as full fledged wizards. And we owe that all to your sponsorship!” Everyone clapped.

Draco wanted to vomit. He knew how much they actually sent over to those poor bastards. Only a small percentage was actually used for any of that while most was squandered on advertising costs, call-centers and mass marketing. Not to mention the big cheques given to the CEOs and founders of such organizations. Most squibs moved into the muggle world after they turned eighteen and could work. There were better lives to be led outside of the kennel the wizarding world kept their dirty little secrets in.

He didn’t listen to the rest of her speech, barely able to keep his concentration. He used to be bored of these galas. The same prattling nonsense repeated in tandem every year. For the last five years he’d been unable to listen to them because of the quantity of blood rushing into his ears. 

 _One day we will be able to welcome Squibs into our society as full fledged wizards_. It took everything in his body not to avada the woman right there for her words. Squibs weren’t diseased people who had to be relegated to the muggle world. They could very well live among their kind if they were given the tools to do so. Instead the world wanted to shut them out and seclude them. And through that seclusion came abuse. 

Blaise stood beside him, smiling and clapping. His friend had always been a better actor than himself.

The ghostly image of the woman they’d both once loved stood between them, her black hair caressing her back as she turned to Draco smiling that huge toothy smile as she had many times before. Draco imagined that she stuck out her tongue and wiggled it, laughing in slow motion and dancing away into the crowd. She’d have some smart-ass remark she’d probably pre-thought up. Draco’s eyes prickled as he felt the swell of emotion thinking about how she’d feel to know that they were both here, in _this_ organization. In a place that talked about squibs as if they were subpar humans under the mirage of helping them. He refocused on the task at hand and chided himself for being weak. _Weak_.

Draco and Blaise spent most of the night socializing with each other, not really in the mood to make idle small chat with other people. Being in this place was exhausting but they had to come. 

Towards the end of the fundraiser, someone got on stage. 

“Excuse me, excuse me,” Marcus Flint cleared his throat loudly to get everyone’s attention. “I just wanted to say that this was a lovely fundraiser, very well put together. Beautiful. I’m very happy to have been invited. See, the thing is…,” Marcus paused for dramatic effect, “Here we are fundraising for squibs who are non-magical but from magical parents. It brings into question how we treat people from all magical backgrounds in our society. The CEO of Malfoy Industries, Draco Malfoy, has shown his true intentions time and time again, most recently through that well publicized event where he used a particularly distasteful term to address our magically gifted muggle-born brethren,” Draco wanted to punch Flint’s teeth into place. _Magically gifted muggle-born brethren?_ _You’ve used the term ‘Mudblood’ more times than I have you bastard_ he thought angrily. 

“It is evident by his behavior that Draco Malfoy, head of Malfoy Industries, carries the same beliefs his parents had about blood purity. They are bigots and followers of the blood purity ideology that devastated our country and...and... the world just a few years ago. I cannot abide by this distasteful, abhorrent behavior. I call for a business embargo on all things associated with Malfoy Industries,” he paused, his eyes searching for Draco and grinning when he found the blond, “and a social embargo on Draco Malfoy. Stand with me against tyranny in all its forms.” 

Draco stared, horrified. Had Flint just called on a ...social embargo on Draco? He’d essentially asked everyone to shun him. _Shun him._ It didn’t happen much anymore. It was a common practice back in the middle ages before modern magic made witches and wizards able to subsist independently. Back when magic was much harder to use and to practice, before the invention of wands and even spells when it was essential to stick together for safety. He didn’t know if he even knew any modern instances of a social embargo. 

Everyone was clapping and half of them were looking at him and the other half at the grinning piece of shit on the stage. He glanced at Blaise who was busy glaring at Flint. Clearly Flint hadn’t brought in the raven-head on his plans of socially ostracizing him. What an enormous clusterfuck. When Draco looked up at Flint again, the man was clapping but not smiling. Just a moment ago, he was grinning at the prospect of costing Draco  his company but now he was staring at Draco. And in that moment Draco knew. This didn’t have anything to do with his comments on muggle-borns or even getting an advantage over his business. This was about something else entirely.

 _The lady with the black hair was now standing in the middle of the room, her eyes blurry with tears, blood seeping through every pore of her body. In a moment, she was hanging from the ceiling, her limp feet dangling over the crowds._ Draco added Flint to the list of people he would physically eviscerate.

 

***

 

Draco had apparated directly into his house as Malfoy heirs were able to do. He was surprised he hadn’t accidentally splinched himself in his fury. He’d spent a lot of the night pacing, rambling and worrying. He hadn’t wanted to wake up his parents and most certainly didn’t want to hear from Lucius how he could have avoided this whole debacle if he’d just stuck to the _old business._ His father did not seem to understand the concept of a legitimate business. 

As soon as Draco saw the light in the sky, he’d sent an owl for his two favorite PR reps to come save him from another nightmare. 

“Did you hear me?” He yelled at Demitria and Amaro to whom he had just finished relaying the events from the night before. 

She’d honestly expected the BBB to contact her the night before and was pleasantly surprised to have been given a full night’s sleep. It was only six am and Demi’s brain was still in ‘sleepy mode’ as her ex liked to call it.

Amaro on the other hand was an entirely alien creature. He woke every morning at five am so he was already ready to leave his house by the time Draco called him. 

“Yes we did Draco.” Demitria reassured him. “Well….we can think about it and draw up some solutions by tomorrow.” 

“I need a solution now!” He yelled again. 

“Well do you expect me to clap and have solutions fall into your lap?” She snapped. 

This seemed to sober him up. “I’m sorry...I’m...” the fight was out of him like a candle light. He sat down, his head in his hands. He had at least stopped pacing and screaming like a banshee. Demitria wondered if every time she saw Draco, a strand of her hair would turn white. She’d found several stress strands already and felt like by the age of 30, she would be a white haired lady.

“I’m sorry... to both of you. I will of course, compensate you for your trouble. I would appreciate any help you could give me.” He said softly, looking up.. 

“I may have a solution,” Demitria said tentatively. 

“I’m listening.”

“You’re not going to like it,” she preempted, enunciating the words.

“I seldom do,” he said resignedly. 

“Your bad situation has just turned to worse, given that Flint has called for a business and social embargo on you. Though I don’t know if it will stick and if anyone will actually listen to that weasel, the fact that he did it so publically at such an event means that you will have to take an equally big measure to counteract the effects.”

“I’m listening,” Draco said suspiciously.

“You were already considering dating and marrying a half-blood…,” She paused, allowing him to guess what her next suggestion might be, “you might have to marry consider more...extreme options.”

“Spit it out,” the blond snapped.

“You need to consider going for a muggleborn instead. It would even out the playing field. People are calling you a blood purist and many other things by association. The media circus is taking on its own form and I can’t control the narrative.” 

“This is absurd.” He  kneaded his head with his fingers. “I’m not a blood purist! I have no issues dating a muggle born. But it can’t look like I’m dating someone merely for the publicity because then that could backfire...painfully. I can’t afford that.”

“You’ll have to date someone beyond reproach. Someone who everyone knows could not be manipulated or bought. Someone well known enough to solidify your position immediately. Someone like…”

Draco’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowed at Demitria. 

A pregnant pause stretched an eternity between them  before she said, “Hermione Granger.”

The pause stretched on for several awkward moments before Draco said ”...No.”  
“Look-”

“It can’t be her. She’s insufferable.”

“Maybe she’s changed! What was so insufferable with her that you won’t consider her”

“Why are you insisting on her?”

“Draco! You’re playing a game of social politics now and she has the perfect combination of star-power and social leverage. The woman has a dual PhD, she’s pretty enough, she’s obviously quite smart. And the best part is, you will never have to see her considering she’s a major workaholic.”

Draco scoffed. Of course, typical of Granger to have grown into a workaholic. “What does she do,” he said in spite of himself.

“She works at the WI. She’s a….umm...an inheritance specialist I think?” She had forgotten the new terminology though Vera had blabbered that scientific mumbo to her so many times.

“She’s a geneticist,” Amaro quipped in. He was familiar with almost all muggle things, having lived equal parts in both worlds given his semi-magical disposition. “She studies the inheritance patterns of magic and how it is passed down generationally.”

Draco tried very hard not to look impressed but it was obvious.

“FUCK! Fine. Set up a meeting.”

 

***

 

“How did you know?” Amaro asked Demitria in the quiet of Draco’s study as they sipped some of his fine whiskey. Draco was a generous boss and host when it came to his liquor collection. 

“How did you know that Flint would renounce the Malfoys and that Draco would be amenable to your suggestion?” She knew what he was asking. Hermione Granger hadn’t been on the original list. She was muggleborn and best friends with Harry Potter, the golden boy and Draco Malfoy’s sworn childhood enemy. In fact Demitria had very pointedly cut Hermione’s name off of the original list along with all muggleborns who could have been potential suitors so that it looked less conspicuous. 

Demi smiled sardonically. “They’re Slytherins. You can always trust a Slytherin with self preservation and with taking advantage of a bad situation. It was just a matter of time before they used Draco’s mistake to their own benefit. So I whispered in a few ears and preempted the strike to our own advantage and on our terms. The damage was minimal considering Flint is not well known or well-liked and the families only want to maim and not destroy a multi-million dollar entity that brings money to their treasuries as well. I knew Draco wouldn’t accept my suggestion if I presented it outright so I needed to...prime the situation.”

She had known that the elder Malfoys would object to Hermione because of her blood status and that Draco would object to her because...well, he didn’t particularly like her. At least that’s what she was sure he’d say. 

In the years she’d come to know Draco, she’d seen him in a negative, childish light owing to all his disastrous messes. But she’d also seen how he’d grown and separated himself from the legacy his parents had built for him. While the elder Malfoys seldom showed themselves in public anymore, the younger Malfoy, during his good weeks, tried to overcome the prejudice and contempt he’d been brought up with. He had funded many charities to help the poor and disenfranchised, including a tutoring service for muggleborns to help them acclimatize to their magical studies- free of charge. Most of his work had gone under the radar and he hadn’t minded. His focus had been almost entirely on building his business from the ground up _legitimately_. 

Though he still slipped up once in a while and could be deeply ignorant about seemingly obvious things, she came to realize that Draco neither had the Dark Mark, nor ascribed to the Voldemort Eugenics school of thought. She’d never have otherwise sought to connect Draco with Hermione.

No one would call Demitria a matchmaker. She was neither the gossiping type nor the everyone-needs-to-get-along type. That was Momma Weasley’s arena. But she wasn’t blind. Draco had brought up Hermione in casual conversation so many times throughout the years that Demi had deciphered that there was definitely something simering underneath the surface other than contempt and disgust.

“Well you may not have attended Hogwarts but I think you are definitely a Slytherin by nature.”

They shared a companionable silence for a few minutes.

“You scare me sometimes,” Amaro admitted, his voice sounding revarant. 

 “I know.”

 

***

 

“Demi!” Hermione waved the other brunette over to the back of the bar where she sat. Somehow they always ended up at the seedies dive bars like the ones they had frequented when they were making enough to feed themselves and drink themselves senseless. In those days she’d been so enthusiastic about her prospects. 

They hugged and chatted over burgers and beer before Demitria worked her way towards her pitch. 

“Hermione...this isn’t entirely a social call,” she began. This was news to Hermione. Sure they hadn’t hung out recently but they used to be on each others social calendars regularly before Demitria’s breakup with her best friend. She’d assumed Demi just wanted to reach out again now that enough time had lapsed. 

“I mean, I’ve been meaning to call you so this was just an excuse for me to see you again socially,” she amended. And she really was happy to see Hermione. She’d missed her more than she’d thought. 

“It’s alright Dem, tell me what you need,” Hermione reassured her, touching her hand lightly. 

“Well...erm...as you know...I work for Draco.” 

Hermione stiffened at that name. 

“Look, I know what he said-”

“Dems, you know Malfoy is never a welcome topic at the dinner table and especially not after the debacle he made. He’s a certifiable imbecile.” His words reverberated so thunderously that heard it while buried knee deep in genetic code. “It was all anyone could talk about at the lab for almost a week. You know the Separationists have once again out of the woodwork to push for the Statute of Secrecy to include muggle-borns? They’re using your boss as the poster-boy.”

“I know...but Hermione he isn’t like that. You know how many charities he’s started and run to help muggleborns and squibs? He’s so different from what you’ve seen and heard.”

“Alright what do you need me to do?”

“You just need to talk to him, that's all.” And just as Demitira said it, she felt like it was a lost cause. How could she make two people who hated each other help each other. She just hoped the pieces she’d put into play would work themselves out. 

“He has a proposition for you. Just hear him out.”

 

***

 

Here she was in his ornate office. She wondered how many things in here were worth over a year’s salary. She just wanted to crush the casually positioned faberge egg to dust. Not that she had any problems with the beautifully crafted Russia artistry. She just wanted to crush it as an analogy to crushing Malfoy. She wondered if this fury was really justified. He’d slipped up in his speech. She could see that, she wasn’t stupid. He’d clearly been waiting to say something else and of course the media circus had taken off. But she couldn’t help but wonder if this was the term he used on a daily basis at home. Did he refer to her as ‘the mudblood’ when he talked to his parents? Was that why he had slipped up? 

Malfoy was late and she didn’t appreciate it.

“You’re late,” she snapped when he strolled in.

“Nice to see you haven’t changed Granger,” he said as if she were the one who had requested the meeting.

“What do you want from me Malfoy? I don’t see you for years and suddenly you want me to meet with you?”

“You don’t sound like you want to be here.”

“I’m only here because you sent Demi.” He quirked an eyebrow at that. Had he not known that she knew Demitria socially? The woman had been to Harry’s wedding after all. 

“Well Granger...I don’t know how exactly to broach this subject so I’ll just put it plainly. You know I’ve been having some issues with my...public image.”

She looked at him incredulously. 

“To put it lightly…,” he amended. “I need to rehab this image...and you…” he gestured at her, clearly unable to get the words out.

“Malfoy whatever it is, spit it out. I don’t have time. I need to get back to the lab,” she snapped. She’d be delayed if she didn’t get back in time to cast her gels and run her samples.

He strode around and leaned on his table. She didn’t know if this was to intimidate her or look more casual but he towered over her, slim in his well fitted suit robes. She narrowed her eyes. 

“Well Granger, I’m a social pariah whose business no one wants. You’re a public figure without a lick of power but together, we can be more than the sum of our parts.”

“Meaning what exactly?”

“I propose that we get married.”

Hermione hadn’t laughed in years the way she laughed at Draco’s proposal. If he thought she’d fall for his desperate routine, he was out of luck. She’d been there in that sphere before. She’d been chewed up and spit out like common garbage and she planned to never return to being anyone’s dirty secret. 

 

***

 

**Hermione**

 

A week later Hermione sat in Heades’s office, her fingers numb from clenching her fists so tightly. She practiced smiling, trying to play it cool like she hadn’t spent the last week suffering from insomnia and stressing out about whether this well deserved promotion would be hers or not. She’d come to the Worfred Institute (the WI) six years prior, right after completing her simultaneous dual degree. Hermione forced herself to unclench her hands but ended up clenching her teeth instead, her nervousness not abating. 

Science was a fairly new subject in the wizarding world, having formerly been sequestered to the muggle world. In the past magic and science were considered to be mutually exclusive but now wizards realized that they just had a unique ability to bend the physical world to their whim. The current question of the century was _how_. And everyone was scrambling to explain it. Many new interdisciplinary fields had popped up in the last decade - genetics of magic, physiomagistry of magic, chemomagistry, the science of alchemy...etc.

Many wizards were now going into the muggle world to painstakingly learn science to understand wizarding magic. The statute of secrecy prevented them from bringing muggle scientists in to study wizarding magic and so they were limited to squib scientists and scientists  who already knew about the wizarding world owing to a relative being magical. As a result, Hermione was in an exceptionally unique position having not one but two PhDs. One was awarded to her from the karolinska institutet in muggle Sweden where she earned her doctorate in Molecular Biology and Genetics. Her other PhD had been in alchemy, awarded by Revana Whyattan, a prestigious wizarding university. Only three people in the world could boast of this feat and two of them were immortal alchemists who were at least three hundred years senior to Hermione.

Her degrees predisposed her to a career within the newly developing field of biomagic. She’d been on the biomagic team for the last six years, studying genetics in wizards. She had composed this project and had proposed it to her superiors as she had proposed countless other ideas over the years. The project aimed at identifying the genetic disposition that led to magical parents giving birth to non-magical children (squibs). This would elucidate the link between magical and non-magical people. Squibs and other semi-magical people, had some unique characteristics and though they were sometimes derogatorily referred to as ‘muggles’, they were in fact not muggles. 

The WI had taken a keen interest in her idea and had immediately set out to fund her project. The only problem was that...it wasn’t her project. Her boss Heades had been only too happy to present the idea as his own and hadn’t even had the decency to give Hermione the privilege of heading up her own project. He insisted that it was to show fairness so that everyone would have equal opportunity especially now that the project had gained an international interest. Every country was watching the WI now and this project, _Genetic Inheritance of the Squib Condition_ ‘GISC’ as it was nicknamed, was bound to make the career of whoever headed it. 

Hermione couldn’t help but feel venomous about this. While everyone had been busy building their lives, having families and buying their first homes, Hermione had been at the lab, working  and hoping it would pay off. She’d forsaken everything for this dream. She had spent weekends and holidays at the lab, working so obsessively that she had been forced to give Crookshanks to Ginny after he’d fallen ill from her neglect. She knew this obsession was unhealthy but she had a bone deep conviction that it would pan out. That she would one day be a part of something so profound that her endless sacrifices would have been worth it. And the day had finally arrived. 

Heades walked in casually, fifteen minutes after the time he’d scheduled the meeting for. He stood at the side of the desk, casually texting on his WizX. Hermione didn’t think she’d ever get over seeing wizards using muggle technology. The WizX was in essence, a wizard’s i-phone and apparently just as attention deterring to wizards as it was to muggles. It held all the capabilities that muggle phones did and more but of course was very strictly regulated to prevent digital interactions between muggles and wizards. The Statute of Secrecy prevented that. 

Heades finished texting and sat down.

“So we’ve decided who will be leading the GISC project,” Heades said gruffly.

“We’ve decided to go with another candidate better suited to this position. Hermione’s heart sank like lead in water. 

“..Who is it going to be?” The overwhelming disappointment shook her voice.

“You’ll hear the announcement during the opening ceremony.” Hermione breathed in, trying to calm herself.

“I won’t be at the opening ceremony.” 

“We want the commencement to go smoothly so we don’t want anyone to know in advance who has been selected as of now.” What did they think she would do that they had to keep this a secret?

...Why wouldn’t he tell her who had been selected

“You’ve not selected anyone have you,” she surmised. 

Heades looked immediately irritated. 

“We have indeed selected someone Ms.Granger. Someone more suitable as I’ve said”

“How is it possible?” Her voice cracked. “How is it possible to find someone more suitable?”

She tried to salvage the situation and tried another tactic. 

“Mr.Heades, can you ...can you please tell me what it was that disqualified me? So that...I can,” his face was impassive, bored even. She faltered but forced herself to continue, “I...I can improve for next time. I really want to progress in my career.”

“Ms.Granger, I don’t have time to discuss career options and methods of self-improvement with every candidate,” He snapped, “You lack overall...initiative. You take very little initiative to better yourself beyond what is required of you.” 

She got up before she could stab him with his own stationary. 

“Thank you.” _you moronic ape with a stick for a brain_. 

Hermione couldn’t believe the unfairness of it. Didn’t take initiative? She’d proposed novel ideas every year for the last six years on her own accord!.

 _You don’t take initiative. You need to work harder. You work-really hard but you’re only booksmart. You’re not very socially intelligent. You’re too outgoing, you need to work more on your craft._ She’d heard every excuse available to mankind many time before. She felt like there was an invisible tattoo on her head that indicated to people that she was not to be promoted or supported. That she was destined to fail regardless of the effort. She hadn’t been given a bonus or a raise or a promotion in over three years and still had worked on. 

Maybe there was some hope. Maybe they had truly selected a candidate better than her. Maybe it was Parvati Patel. Her former Hogwarts mate had joined Worfred a few years prior after an illustrious but tiring career as a ministry potions brewer. She was a maverick when it came to potions but she knew almost nothing about biology. Or was it going to be Sammy Chu, the half-blooded witch who had been there for a year longer than Hermione? Sammy was intelligent enough though not very resourceful or hard-working ...though by Hermione’s standard, no one was hardworking considering she’d worked so many holidays and weekends that they’d capped the number of vacation days employees could carry over. 

Hermione floo-ed to the wizarding pub closest to her home. For once she was glad that the pub keep, Millicent, was a witch of few words. She didn’t need to pretend to be happy, past maintaining her stoicism. 

Hermione exited the pub, the autumn air refreshingly cool and hinting at the fast approaching winter. It was only once Hermione shut the front door to her apartment did she dissolve into a pile of tears. She felt weak for being melodramatic and crying instead of fighting but after years of being underestimated and working twice as hard as everyone, she felt truly defeated. Her stockpile of determination had resulted in absolutely nothing. 

 

***

 

Hermione didn’t attend the opening ceremony where they announced the new project lead. She just hoped it was someone who would at least do justice to the project she’d put her very soul into. Instead she stayed home and ate pints of ice cream and cried herself to sleep. She just didn’t have the heart to watch someone else take the position she’d work so hard to get. She allowed herself this small exception to be weak and childish. Just for once.

When she came to work on Monday, she found Parvati oddly broody. The Indian witch was aggressively mincing Dragon Gravel as she ranted to Hermione. 

“They could have selected from the myriad of candidates they had. I mean for fuck’s sake Hermione, you have a dual PhD from _both_ worlds. You’ve been here for six years and have worked more than anyone else. It’s not possible to be more qualified than you!” Hermione was startled by the fury that emanated from her eyes. 

“Parvati...who was selected to head the department? I wasn’t at the opening,”  Hermione said quietly. 

Parvati looked surprised, “They selected Daphne.” 

Hermione froze. “Daphne Greengrass?” 

 

***

 

Hermione slammed her palm into Heade’s desk.

“Daphne Greengrass? Are you freaking joking?” Hermione would have screamed if she weren’t hissing.

Hermione would have been upset if they had picked anyone else but picking Daphne Greengrass was almost like being punched in the gut. Daphne’s only degree was from Hogwarts. She hadn’t gone for her advanced studies unlike virtually everyone else in the department. In fact, through her own admission, Daphne had gotten her position through family connections. She was very proud of that fact. 

“I don’t appreciate this behavior Ms.Granger. You’re on very thin ice,” Heades warned her.

Hermione ignored him, her voice unintentionally rising an octave. “Explain to me _how_ this...this….woman is more qualified than me!” 

“I’ve already talked to you about this Ms.Granger,” Heades looked murderous but was trying to keep his voice down, “Ms.Greengrass is uniquely able to handle this project considering it is a widely publicized program with a world audience.”  
“You mean she looks good for the camera and she has the purity needed to legitimize the project,” Hermione was tearing apart at the seams.

“Mind your language Ms.Granger! We don’t consider blood purity to be a factor in such situations. It’s insulting for you to even insinuate that.”

“Then tell me how a person without an advanced degree is given the opportunity to head a ground breaking project to investigate the freaking genetic differences between muggles and wizards!” Hermione was screaming now. This made as much sense as if they’d elected a band of amoeba to head the group. Daphne was as stupid and difficult to work with as they came. 

“She’s so imbecilic that even a degenerated sea cucumber could do a better job than her! You all must just be a band of monkeys if you’re considering someone so impressively underqualified for this position,” She hadn’t realized she was yelling she progressed through her rant. 

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Heades had gotten up and was screaming back at her, spittle flying out of his mouth. “You think you’re a good candidate for this position? We just put you on the list to placate the donors who like seeing a war hero on the institution’s list of employees. You’re rude, have no respect for authority. You’re disorganized and late for everything and incredibly lazy-”

“Lazy? I’m LAZY? You moronic ape, do you even know how to spell that word? If you know the definition of lazy, you wouldn’t have made Daphne Greengrass the head of the singularly most important biological initiative known to wizardkind!”

“That’s it!” Heades’s thunderous voice reverberated against the windows. “You’re FIRED!”

Hermione was laughing now, “FIRED? FIRED? I FREAKING QUIT!” She walked out, slamming the door to his office then went back and slammed it again twice more for effect. Then she went back once more and hexed him so that his face swelled and pimples protruded to form the word sCUM on his face so that the tiny s was obscured by the three other letters on his face.

It wasn’t until Hermione hit the cool night air outside her apartment did she devolve into a fit of angry tears. Nepotism and blood purity. There was no doubt it was anything except those things. How else could have someone who showed up to work only half the time and never actually did anything of substance be appointed to such a privileged position. Daphne looked good on every poster. She was the ideal candidate in a way that Hermione could never dream to be. How could she possibly improve her station when the wizarding world wouldn’t even give her small opportunities to progress through. 

Unless….Hermione had a nauseating thought. Suddenly Hermione’s anger doubled. Unless that sodding maggot faced ferret had had his hand to play in this. It would just be like that conniving slithering snake to destroy everything she’d worked so hard for just because she’d laughed off his preposterous proposal. 

Hermione just had to hunt him down and when she did, she wasn’t sure if she would be able to hold herself back from punching him in the face a second time.


	3. THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione makes a difficult decision that will have long lasting consequences. Meanwhile in another part of wizarding society, Astoria and Daphne scheme in the ways Slytherins are apt to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance for any spelling or grammar errors.

“Oh you’re telling me it wasn’t you?” Hermione snarled in his face, ready to punch him again if he moved.  
“Why would I pass you up on a promotion Granger? I just told you we could help each other. Don’t you think I’d have done something to grease your way up instead? To prove to you that I have the power to help you?”  
“To prove to me you have the power to tear me down! To threaten me into marrying you. You’re just playing with my life Malfoy.”  
“You sound insane Granger.” Draco was losing his temper. “I don’t appreciate you coming in to my office throwing out accusations”  
Hermione could barely keep her voice from trembling in anger. She blinked in an attempt to keep the tears from falling but instead, her traitorous eyes let one loose and it trailed her cheek.  
“I’ve worked so so hard Malfoy. And you come in and take it away in one moment.”  
“For the last fucking time Granger, it wasn’t me! I mean for fuck’s sake, what could I say to make you believe me? I know the timing is suspect but did you honestly think you were going to actually earn that position? Through hard work and diligence? You can’t seriously be naive enough to think that it would be that easy do you?”  
“It wasn’t easy-” Hermione began to growl but Draco cut her off with his palm in surrender.  
“-Daphne Greengrass was on your team. There was no way you were going to get a position before her. Regardless of your work ethic, ambitions or the number of degrees tacked behind your name, you are missing one vital thing that I can offer you. Connections. You can’t change a system you’re not a part of Granger. You can only dismantle it from the inside once you’re inside. Look, I understand your hesitation. I understand your distrust but know that I’m not trying to trick you into marrying me. I need you to collude on this with me or it won’t work. I need your help in every respect and I will make it worth your while.”  
“You’re a...a snake”  
“Damn right I am. I’m a fucking viper in a snakes nest. It’s eat or be eaten out here Granger. Either do the deed that needs to be done, whatever the method or be beaten and keep your moral dignities. Take the offer if you will, decline if you won’t.”  
“I will keep my moral indignities! I refuse your offer.” She said, her fury still in tact. If anything, this conversation had just made her angrier. To call her naive and say it was assured that she never had the chance just because a rich pureblood was in her department was just cruel and untrue.  
“Fine,” He snapped, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”  
She slammed the door on her way out as loud as possible. His words echoed in her mind over and over.  
Hermione felt the fight leave her bones the moment she left Malfoy’s office. She walked herself home slowly, fighting the urge to break down on the street. Her bones ached with a sudden desire to sleep and never wake up and she knew she was being dramatic but to have worked for so long on something so passionately only to have it taken away in the last moment was unbearable.  
She cried herself to sleep on her sofa that night as she listen to her neighbors loudly fucking in the adjacent apartment, the creaks on their beds becoming louder and louder until they’d exhausted themselves.  
...And just for a moment she thought of a time before this job when she’d been able to come home to a warm embrace and a shoulder to cry on. When he’d kissed her tears and fears away and when she’d have gladly abandoned her ambitions to be with him. But it had been many years since he’d discarded her like trash and now all she had was this dream that was actively going up in smoke. 

OOO

Hermione met the boys for lunch on Thursday afternoon as they had been doing every week since she’d mutually parted with her lab. Over the years she’d been employed at the WI, Hermione had only been able to make a handful of lunches due to the time consuming nature of her experiments. After her resignation, Ginny had suggested Thursday lunches to take advantage of Hermione’s rare time. This was their eighth lunch, marking the eighth week of her unemployment. Ginny hadn’t been able to make it. She had traded a shift at the emergency room at St.Thomas where she was a healer. Harry and Ron had graced her with their presence though.  
Unfortunately the day’s topic had turned sour and Ron found himself on the defensive once again.  
They’d somehow gotten on the topic of inequalities within the wizarding world. Ron was trying to explain that the reason that muggleborns were at the bottom of almost every major industry was because they didn’t have the same background of being raised with a magical upbringing to facilitate their success.  
“We went to Hogwarts at eleven Ron! How much of a difference could it have been when we studied in the same schools?”  
“Hermione there’s a difference between being educated at Hogwarts and having been raised in the wizarding world.”  
“So you’re saying that by being raised within the wizarding community, you gained some sort of advantage as opposed to being raised by muggle parents?”  
Harry saw the glint in Hermione’s eyes that said she was itching for a fight today.  
He interjected, “Hermione I think what he’s trying to say is that it’s not a muggleborn’s fault that their parents can’t teach them the ways of the wizarding world.”  
“Look, all I’m saying is that muggleborns come in with a disadvantage and they have extra hurdles to overcome.” Ron continued.  
She didn’t like it but she acquiesced to that point. “I can acknowledge that Ron...however, I don’t think it explains why muggleborns are at the bottom of every major field. It seems odd that the wizarding world’s success almost looks like a gradient with the people from the pureblooded families near the top.”  
“I don’t know if I’d agree with that. It sounds more like a correlation than a causation to me. Besides, purebloods usually come from rich and powerful families so it makes sense they’d be at the top starting off. As for muggleborns, I just think it’s a coincidence if not a faulty statistic,” Ron said skeptically. Harry nodded in agreement.  
“You don’t find it odd that there are no muggleborns as heads of any major corporations?”  
“Not really...It makes sense considering.”  
“Considering what?”  
“I don’t know...they may be raised differently-”  
“-you already said that-”  
“-....erm...in the sense...look don’t get mad ok?” Ron said. Harry cringed on behalf of his friend. “I don’t know much about muggle work culture so I can only guess at what hard work and determination means to muggles and their wizarding offspring as it does to wizards.”  
“Are you saying you think muggleborns are lazy? That’s such an unfair stereotype!”  
“Well...you know stereotypes are formed from people seeing a trend. So there must be some truth to it!”  
“Tell me you’re joking! By your account, if we’re all lazy, why do I have a double PhD? And yet I find it harder to find a job than Lavender Brown or Crabbe and Goyle who share a brain-cell between them!”  
“Now you’re making it personal.”  
“You made it personal when you called muggleborns lazy!”  
“I don’t think he called all muggleborns lazy Hermione,” Harry said, trying to quell her anger.  
“I didn’t say all muggleborns!” Ron shouted indignantly.  
“You didn’t have to! Now answer me. What other reason could there be for a person with a dual-degree to not be able to find a job here?”  
“Hermione...you need more than booksmarts to get a job! Employers look for more than good grades.” Harry slapped himself on the forehead for his friend’s faux-pas.  
“I don’t think he means that Hermione.”  
“Actually I do!” Ron said, annoyed at Harry trying to play the arbiter.  
“....And what exactly do I not have?” Hermione laughed bitterly.  
“You aren’t exactly a social butterfly Hermione. You spend all your time working and never meet anyone. How will you network with potential employers like that?”  
“And when I socialize you’ll criticize me for not working hard, is that it?”  
“No of course not! I’m just saying there are many important aspects of wizarding culture and employers look for all of those things.”  
“You’re full of shit Ron. You’re as similar to a social butterfly as a quail is to a dinosaur.”  
“Now that’s just mean.”  
“How many people did you network with before you got your dream job?”  
“I worked hard for this position Hermione!”  
“And your father put in a good word directly with the head of the Auror department!”  
“How can you say that Hermione? That’s just...just...so beneath you! Ok What about Harry then huh? Did his dead parents put in a good word for him too?” Harry flinched at the callous mention of his dead parents. Ron was red at this point but Harry could see the glee in his face, thinking he’d made the perfect argument. Harry excused himself at this juncture, seeing clearly where this trainwreck was heading.  
“First of all, Harry does have connections. Your dad handed his resume directly to Bartemus Swinson himself! And secondly, I didn’t say you didn’t or don’t work hard Ron! Just that you have connections where I don’t. If you recall, I applied for the same positions as you before I committed to my PhD. I only got one call for an interview. You got several calls!”  
“And you think that’s because my dad went to all the companies that I applied to and talked to them huh?”  
“Not all companies…,” Hermione grumbled and continued, ”the point is Ron that you see me struggling and you can’t acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, there’s something wrong with the system! I’m not the only one struggling.” Hermione grumbled, unable to countermand that statement.  
Harry left the conversation to visit the bathroom.  
“I acknowledge your struggle Hermione, I just don’t think the wizarding world is out to get you. And just as you said, you’re not the only one struggling. There are other people struggling too so it’s not just muggleborns who are having difficulty finding work. There’s no big conspiracy out there to get people like you.”  
“I’m not saying there’s a conspiracy Ron!”  
“What then?”  
“I’m saying there’s a break the system that doesn’t help people like me who don’t have anyone in the wizarding world to help give them a leg up.”  
“A leg up? What do you mean?”  
“There’s a clear bias Ron! Nepotism.”  
“Damnit Hermione, why can’t you just admit that sometimes you’re not the best! I worked hard for this job and it’s not my fault you can’t get a new position. Maybe if you spent less time fighting with me and more time searching or being amicable, you’d have a job and a life outside of work.”  
“I don’t think I’m the best Ron. I’m just trying to explain to you that there might be something wrong with the system. Why can’t you acknowledge that?”  
“Because there’s nothing wrong with it just because you can’t get a job. You’re one person. All I can say is try harder. I’m sure it will work out. Now can we talk about something else?”  
“I’ve lost my appetite Ron.”  
“For Merlin’s sake Hermione why are you so dramatic? Do you have to win every conversation? Can’t you just let it go?”  
“I most certainly cannot!”  
“You’re so bloody stubborn. No wonder no one wants to work with you!”  
The silence after that statement was deafening and Ron immediately regretted those words.  
“Hermione I’m sorry...I didn’t...it just slipped out.”  
“I’ll see you another time Ron. I’ve lost my appetite.” She said and packed her things in huff just as Harry returned from the bathroom.  
“What happened Ron? What did you say?”  
“Nothing. She’s just being a child again.”  
“Why did you have to continue the fight?” Harry chided Ron.  
“Me? Did you hear her? She’s saying that everything we’ve worked for was handed to us.”  
“You know that’s not what she meant Ron and maybe we need to acknowledge her struggle a little.”  
“Acknowledge? Harry we’ve done nothing but let her whine and gripe about the difficulty of finding a job! She’s got no savings. She’s falling apart at the seams. I think she just needs to pull herself by the bootstraps and just get on with it.”  
The mood had been ruined once again by Hermione’s petulance and inability to compromise during an argument.  
“I just wish she’d stop fighting us all the time as if we’re personally responsible,” Ron muttered and Harry was inclined to agree.

OOO

Astoria was sipping tea in the Greengrass estate while Daphne was busy on her phone. Astoria hated the thing. It distracted an already insufferable Daphne.  
“You need to be become friends with Hermione,” Astoria dictated  
“Why? Is there something I need to know?” Daphne didn’t look interested. In fact, she didn’t look up at all. She was too busy Instagramming on her WizX. Sometimes Astoria wanted to take her bloody phone and explode it.  
“I guess...with the recent announcement of your position, given how...underqualified you are…” Daphne didn’t interrupt her to disagree. They both knew the reasoning for her posting. It had nothing to do with qualification,“...I think we might see some changes happening. It’s better to have allies than enemies”.  
“You’ve still not given me a reason.”  
“Let’s just say that’s a need right now.”  
“You’re being evasive. You know I won’t take your orders without reason.”  
“They’re not orders! And I wouldn’t give you instructions without reason.”  
“Instructions are orders!”  
“You’re impossible.”  
“And you forget that I’m not actually stupid!”  
“You are most certainly stupid since you still won’t trust my intuition!”  
“I don’t trust lack of information. Now stop deflecting and spit it out. What do you know and why do I need to be friendly with the mudblood?”  
Astoria stewed for a few seconds, petulantly not wanting to share with her older sister just to piss her off. She felt like she was five again.  
“Draco is going to make her an offer.”  
“Oooh what kind of offer?” Daphne asked, finally looking up from her WizX, suddenly intrigued.  
“I’m not sure. One of my associates overheard Draco’s lapdog Vasquez discussing it with that other woman.”  
“She hates me.”  
“I know. But make an effort. Don’t antagonize her. Maybe even apologize, I don’t know.”  
“You want me to go apologize to mudblood Granger? She won’t buy it.”  
Astoria snorted, “You’re more manipulative than Parkinson used to be. Use your skills.”  
If there was one thing Daphne was vulnerable to, it was flattery. Her ego was one of her biggest weaknesses and Astoria often used it to her advantage.  
“Look,” Astoria tried again, “if Draco Malfoy is going to offer her some kind of business proposal, we need to know about it. I don’t know what’s going on but there’s only one thing Draco could be after considering Granger is a geneticist. If needed, we might need to intervene to prevent him from offering her any position.”  
Daphne nodded in sudden understanding.  
“You think he might be looking to set up a research facility.”  
Astoria didn’t answer but Daphne read between the lines. Draco was a bloodhound that would never stop it seemed.  
“This is the perfect opportunity to take that bint down a few paces. I’m going to be so friendly, Granger is going to be eating dog food out of the palm of my hand.”  
“Don’t get carried away Chelsea Mirgamot. It’s going to take a lot before you befriend her but she needs to see you as a non-threat even if she doesn’t see you as an ally,” Astoria stated.  
Astoria had always been the smarter sister. And while most people thought she was also the cunning sister, Daphne reserved that title. She played the part of a bumbling idiot so well that even Astoria found herself being lulled into a false sense of security here and again.  
Daphne’s masquerade allowed her to move undetected as most people believed her to be simple-minded. Sure they were careful around her, owing entirely to her being categorized as the infamous ‘Slytherin’ but they were cautious not threatened. To them, she was as dangerous as a cat with claws. They weren’t aware that she was no house cat but rather a roaming beast from the jungles that would stalk and lunge when it felt ready.  
Daphne may have lacked Astoria’s intellectual inquisitiveness but she was far from simple-minded or unambitious. Astoria was often glad that Daphne was her sister and not her opposition. Daphne was ruthless and blood-thirsty in a way Astoria had never been. Her only saving grace was that she was particularly lazy and often took the past of least work which is all it took to make her ineffectual...mostly.  
“Congrats on your new promotion by the way,” Daphne quipped. She was back at her phone, perusing instagram. How very philistine.  
“Yeah, more work, less pay. But I have to say, it felt great swiping that smug look off of Draco’s face.”  
Daphne smirked at her knowingly. She knew well how irresistable Astoria found Draco. She’d always had a weird thing for blondes. Especially the angry kind. It had taken a lot for her not to fall for his charms and oh had he tried. Daphne was glad she’d distracted her sister with better offers from men who could elevate her social status rather than detract it as Draco Malfoy was apt to do.  
Draco was as venomous and dangerous as they came and recently he’d been like lead to anyone who came to associate with him socially. Daphne was ecstatic when she’d heard of Marcus Flint’s call of socially embargoing Draco. Astoria couldn’t socially shun him of course. She was the current CEO of Malfoy Industries but Daphne had been quick to fan the flames where she could. Whispers at her friend’s parties. A word or two in a particularly gossip-hungry bird’s ear.  
The great and royal name of Malfoy had taken so many hits over the years that it was astounding that Draco was still important enough for his social messes to make it into the press.  
“We should move on the GOB bids by next week,” Astoria changed the subject, not wanting to reveal how much that stupid blond idiot affected her.  
“I’ll take care of it. Your hands are full,” Daphne stated.  
So many moving parts had been in play for several years. Astoria felt heady knowing that their plans were finally forming into one coherent plot. Their parents could suck it. They’d been so fixated on their son succeeding that they’d disregarded their daughters entirely. And good thing too or they too might be dead from an Ovine overdose like young Marcus. Astoria and her would rule the world before too long and bring the Greengrass name back to glory.

OOO

Hermione apparated herself to Milicent’s pub and spend a few rounds drinking vodka angrily. What had her life come to that Ron Weasley was judging her? That Crabbe and Goyle held better positions and better lives than her? Drinking didn’t make her feel better but it numbed the pain like very few things did. She paid up and walked back home, sufficiently buzzed but that only exacerbated her fury.  
When she got home, she shut the door and muttered, “Silencio cardonae”, silencing the tiny studio.  
And then she screamed.  
Hermione screamed for what felt like an eternity and then proceeded to destroy anything and everything that could come apart in her hands. She grabbed her bookshelf and ripped it from the wall. It fell, everything it held clamouring to the ground and shattering. She grabbed the vase she’d selected for her mother’s birthday back when she thought her mother would one day remember her and threw it against the coffee table that shattered in deafening devastation.  
Her anger didn’t abate so she ran into the kitchen and opened every drawer and broke anything she could. The plates were particularly therapeutic, their shattering synchronised with her screams.  
“I hate you! I hate you! I HATE YOU!” she wasn’t even sure who or what she was referring to. Just that she needed to scream something and be angry at the world.  
Plates, cups, mugs that had been unutilized for so long that they had garnered a thin film of dust.  
It must have been almost an hour later and her house was absolutely destroyed. Very few things remaining intact. She’d deliberately avoided destroying with magic because the destruction was much more immense without giving her the satisfaction of releasing her energy.  
She sat in the middle of the catastrophe that was her life and came to one solid decision. She didn’t care how she succeeded to the top. She would use any resource, any advantage she’d been given to make it. That included making a deal with Draco-the-devil-Malfoy.  
I accept. She scribbled onto a parchment and fastened it to the transport vial he’d given her eight weeks before.  
She slept better than she’d slept in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh two hormonal adults so hell bent on angst :P


	4. FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco iron out some details and it becomes ever more evident how true to their House natures they really are.   
> Let the games begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay in submitting this chap guys! I started school (again), in a new country (YAY) so it’s been a bit hectic. I’ve actually had this chap written out for a while now but I intended to post a much larger chapter. I changed my mind because I really wanted to put something out and soon! I hope you like it! Pls comment if you do!

She met Malfoy at his office the next day after the office had closed and spent ten minutes evading the janitorial staff to ensure their plotting remained a clandestine affair. The next three hours passed quickly as they worked to iron out details of their deal. Five shots of espresso, several veiled comparisons of Harry and Ron to various magical animals and three feet of parchment later, Hermione and Draco had come to a few tentative agreements.   
“I need you to attend all social engagements and interviews,” Draco demanded.  
“Sure...actually hold on,” Hermione paused, looking troubled, “Are you talking about the list of events scheduled on the calendar that Demitria owled me?”  
The blond ferret nodded in the affirmative. Hermione balked remembering the sheer multitude of events stacked for each week - parties, lunches, dinners, social gatherings, ballrooms - each of these events had been added to the calendar, anally color coded with the details of what to wear. The information was so detailed and well organized that Hermione had taken several revenant moments to admire the detailed diligence of Amaro’s workmanship. The man was nothing if not excruciatingly meticulous.  
“Yes, but we haven’t scheduled any interviews yet which I’m sure we will be asked to come to once our engagement becomes public.”  
“You’re insane!” Hermione laughed. “How on earth do you have time to go to all these engagements while running your business?”  
“As you can see, I’m quite free nowadays,” he laughed mirthlessly.   
“I...I...I have to work. Well first I have to find a job and then I’ll be working. I won’t have time to attend all those engagements. I could do a few of them?” She posed the statement as a question which was a bad habit she was trying to break to no avail. Malfoy took advantage of her hesitance by steam rolling her on every issue.   
“Fat chance. I’ll need you to attend all of them.”   
“Malfoy, I just explained to you -”  
“I heard you the first time. Non-negotiable. Next.”  
“Non-negotiable my butt, I just won’t come!”  
“Ahh the old Gryffindor stubborn mule act.”  
“The what? Nevermind. Malfoy-”  
“Give me a percentage then. How many engagements would you be willing to come to?”  
“50%?”   
“At least 90%.”  
Hermione groaned and rubbed her eyes. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted to take a couple more shots of the vodka they’d opened or hit him on the head with the bottle. Or a combination of both...she could empty the bottle and then hit him on the head with it.   
“Please Malfoy, can’t you be a little sympathetic?”  
“I am sympathetic. I’ve brought it down to 90%!”  
Hermione closed her eyes again and forced herself to think analytically as she usually did when she encountered an issue at work.   
“I will come to 60% of your social engagements if you find me a new position.”  
Malfoy was grinning like a jackal now and Hermione felt like she was going to fall into a pit of poisonous vipers. Making a metaphor between her future husband and a pit of vipers wasn’t a good sign.

“90% and we have a deal.”  
“There aren’t enough hours in the day for that.”  
“That’s not my problem.”  
“It will be when I fall asleep in the fruit punch! 85% of social engagements,” she said, feeling like arguing over percentages seemed quite juvenile.  
“85% of social engagements and you need to smile and engage.”  
“Oh fine!”  
“I’ve already put into motion the task of securing you a position,” he said offhandedly.  
“What?“  
“Granger, if you’re going to continue to be this dense then I’m going to need to get drunk before we have conversations so that I can slow down to your level.”  
Hermione narrowed her eyes but continued, “What position will it be? Where will it be? What will my position entail? Give me the details!”  
“I’ll inform you when I know it’s been secured.”  
“For heaven’s sake Malfoy, stop being so secretive! Please tell me what it is for the sake of full transparency!” Hermione pleaded.   
“It’s a position at the FWR.”   
Hermione’s jaw dropped open so violently, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d dislocated her jaw.  
“The The Foundation for Wizard Research?” she choked out. The FWR was one of the most prestigious organizations in the Wizarding World as a whole. It was a fraction of the size of the WI but the research conducted there was top tier. Originally constructed to study and create new spells, curses, potions and the like, the FWR had embarked into the fields of the muggle sciences as applicable to witchcraft.   
“That’s what I said is it not?” He snapped.  
“But...they...they’re not a...a...biology organization!”  
“No they are not but they have an established physiomagistry department and are looking to do the same with a biology department. In fact, I’m looking to secure you a position as the head of the department.”  
“That’s...phenomenal,” she whispered, the fight leaving her limbs after this great revelation. She couldn’t attack him when she was being given this incredible gift. “Thank you Malfoy.”  
“It’s not for free Granger. You need to hold your end of the bargain,” he reminded her in that annoying way pricks do when they needed to ensure that one did not derive any satisfaction from life.  
“Yes of course!”  
“Alright, can we finally move on?” He sighed, perpetually annoyed.   
“Yes! I have a demand of my own!” she rambled spontaneously before she lost her nerve. She had been stewing over this point but had felt unprepared to bring it up until then. “ I want my own lab and I want you to fund my research for ten years. All the proprietary information from my research will be my own.”  
Draco chuckled at that one, “Don’t try to be a Slytherin. It really doesn’t suit your complexion. You want me to pay for your lab and receive no discernible benefit? How about you pay for your lab and maintain it yourself.”  
“I have no money to do so!”  
“You’ll be given a stipend while at Malfoy manor. Use that.”  
“I need more than my stipend to run my own lab. Ok in that case ensure that I will be able to get a grant from the Squib Foundation to allow me to continue my research for their benefit.”  
“No.”  
“What do you mean no?”  
“You’ve made no argument that makes me want to agree. I don’t get anything out of agreeing to this.”  
They sat in silence while he scribbled this onto a piece of paper that they were using to keep track of all the details of their deal. Hermione couldn’t think of a way to leverage him so instead she imagined him in a red suit with two tiny protruding horns. The prick would probably make even that ugly outfit look ravishing.  
“We will live in Malfoy manor, we will have weekly outti-” Draco drawled slowly as he wrote, clearly not seeing a problem or a cause for protestation.  
“Wait what?”  
“You’ll have to be more specific than that.” He said scowling but he didn’t look up from his scribbling.  
“We can’t live in Malfoy manor!”  
“Why not? It’s my ancestral home. It’s safe and large.”  
“Because...it’s your home! I have an apartment.”  
“Which you will give up.”  
“No! I want it to be maintained.”  
Draco sighed and put his pen down, irritated at her request.  
“You’re being childish. We are going to be married. Do you know what that means? We need to live at Malfoy manor as every male has done so since it was built. It would raise immediate suspicions if we didn’t.”  
“We’re breaking from tradition just with this union. It won’t seem odd if we break from tradition and live elsewhere. It doesn’t have to be my apartment. We can live anywhere you’d like.”  
“I like Malfoy manor.”  
“No. No…,” Hermione attempted to channel her inner anxiety in the form of physical exercise by pacing the room intently.   
She had to outleverage him on this matter. Malfoy manor as a primary residence was non-negotiable. She’d covered up the deep scar on her arm with concealer today but she could still feel the unevenness from the butchered skin underneath if she grazed it with her fingers. MUDBLOOD. The words his aunt had cut into her arm and had burned onto her abdomen so that any man who touched her would know who she was...what she was. She shuddered to remember those crazed eyes accompanied by wild black hair. Those teeth that seemed to all be pointy canines, intent on devouring her face. And worst of all that laugh, hysterical, maniacal and soullessly joyful as she cut into her skin like butter and maimed her mind with her brute force.   
“Hello?” Draco was waving a hand in front of Hermione which seemed to have finally caught her attention. She forcefully inhaled a breath, attempting to calm herself. It had been many years since her torture at the hands of Bellatrix but Hermione still felt the stirrings of intense panic on occasion. She couldn’t let Malfoy see her weakness.   
If there was one thing she had gauged during their hours of plotting, it was that Malfoy didn’t have an empathetic bone in his body-at least not towards her and it made her skin flinch as she wondered again if agreeing to this marriage was a sane idea. She had no doubt he would use her fear against her if he knew.  
“Your parents live there. It will be weird especially since I’m not actually your wife.”  
“The manor is large. They live in the East wing and I’ve lived in the North Wing since I was thirteen. You will be free to do as you please.”  
“Malfoy we can’t.”  
“Why not?”  
“Well ...do your parents know about us? Would they not find it odd that we...don’t share a bedroom? We wouldn’t have that issue if we lived apart from them!”  
“Of course they know Granger,” He said incredulously. “Besides, even they don’t share a room. Malfoys are solitary. We enjoy our privacy,” but he must have rethought the idea behind the words because he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.   
“No, I can’t agree to this...it’s just weird. Yeah weird…”  
They sat in silence for a few moments during which Hermione very productively panicked, unable to think up any new ideas she could use to leverage him.  
“I will finance your lab if we live in Malfoy manor,” He said cunningly, the devious smile making her flinch.  
“I…,” Hermione rubbed her arm uncomfortably with the memory. Do anything and everything necessary, she reminded herself but she couldn’t. She repeated the mantra three times and then nodded quickly before losing her nerve.  
“Ok if you will agree to finance me for a decade,”  
“I will finance your lab for ten years and we will split any profits owing from discoveries you make and we will live in Malfoy manor.”  
“Wait a second! I didn’t agree to that!”  
The rest of the evening passed much the same way with Draco practicing his sly ways and Hermione kicking herself for her inability to see them in advance.

*** An hour later ***

“Will we need to get intimate?” Hermione blurted out. She was immediately uncomfortable but seeing Malfoy distressed gave her an odd sense of satisfaction.   
“No of course not! But...I will be discreet.”  
“Discreet?”  
“You don’t expect me to be celibate for the next two and a half years do you?” He asked, appalled at the implications.  
“Wha-what do you expect to do then? Are you going to be having seedy hotel sex?” She balked at him.  
“Seedy hotel sex?” He laughed. “I imagine they’ll be coming to Malfoy manor as they’ve been doing.  
“Who is they exactly?”  
“Granger...you don’t actually expect me to answer that do you? Women from bars, restaurants. I recently made it into Witch Weekly’s hundred most eligible bachelor’s list. Number twenty seven you know,” He flashed her a practiced smile that purportedly brought thousands of women to their knees in orgasmic release. She herself might not have been so immune to his charms had she not been able to see his pointy predatory wolf teeth.   
“Besides, do you have a better proposal?”  
“Yes! Stay celibate for that time. I’m sure you don’t need to get laid that often.”  
Malfoy balked, “That often? Granger, I’m a young, fit, good-looking male. I need sex. It’s a basic need if we’re going to be married for two and a half years.”  
“It most certainly is not a basic need!”  
He laughed, “I suppose you plan on being celibate during that time then.”  
“Of course!”  
“Granger, it’s easy to not have sex when you’ve never had sex,” His jibe struck her in the gut knowing that she hadn’t been intimate since...  
An awkward pause ensued as he regarded her with a devilish smirk, “Speaking of... when was the last time you fucked someone Granger?”  
“That’s my personal business. You have no right to ask me that. And I prefer if you don’t use such vulgar language,” She snapped angrily.  
“There are no secrets between man and wife Granger. Total transparency remember?” He said, quoting her earlier demand where she requested they be completely truthful to one another.   
“That’s for secrets that could hurt our endeavors. Not intimate details that are none of your business.”  
“It is my business if you are going to insist on us being sexless for the duration of our marriage, I’d like to know why.”  
“For heaven’s sake Malfoy, can we please drop it!” Her face was burning in a mixture of embarrassment, shame and a bottomless pit of pain as she remembered when the last time was that she’d been touched. Intimately. Around the same time her heart was squeezed until it burst.  
“Alright, as long as you agree to my dalliances”  
“Most certainly not.”  
“Look it’s simple. I need sex. It will either be my ex-marital dalliances...or,” He paused for effect, “you,” He said cockily. His smugness elevated her irritation solely because he knew what her answer would be.   
Just to wipe that smarmy look off his face she said, “Fine, I’ll be intimate with you.” Her tone was noncommittal, casual and she sat back down and crossed her legs. She wasn’t as cunning as a Slytherin but she could be brave and plunder headfirst stupidly like a Gryffindor.  
“Then it’s settled - wait what?” He sputtered, sitting up. “You will?”  
“Well if we need to pretend to be in love in public, I think having an intimate relationship would only improve my acting in that regard,” She looked away in an attempt to sound aloof.   
He seemed to have found his footing and was grinning that sly grin again.   
“Ok then. Let’s see if you can hold to that agreement.”   
He walked over and joined her on the couch.   
“What do you mean by that? What exactly are you doing?” She asked, her heart lurching as she gathered his intentions just as she asked the question.  
“Testing your willingness to follow-through,” He whispered, leaning in.   
She felt the breath of his words on her face and stiffend when his lips caressed hers.   
He kissed her softly and she was surprised at how gentle he was. She hadn’t expected such a crass, loud mouthed, temperamental man-child to kiss so gently. If she hadn’t spent the last few hours trying not to punch him, she might have reciprocated the kiss. It had been such a long time since she’d been intimate with anyone that the thought of a sudden kiss made her freeze like a deer in the proverbial headlights.   
His fingers braided into her hair and began to caress gentle circles around her skull.   
When he pulled back, he whispered, “I’ve never kissed a corpse before but if I did, I suspect it would feel like this.” And with that he was back to scribbling on his parchment.  
“What are you writing?” She asked, panicked suddenly.  
“That ex-marital dalliances are allowed so long as we are discreet.”  
“What!? We just agreed to be intimate.”  
He laughed at that, “Granger, we both know you weren’t serious about that. Besides, I don’t much enjoy sex with inanimate objects.”  
Hermione looked confused for a second before she understood the jibe. “I am not an inanimate object!”  
“You kiss like one.”  
“I was caught off-guard.”  
“Why are you against me having a go on the side? This marriage is a sham anyway and clearly you don’t like me very much.”  
“I refuse to be a cuckold.” She said although there was an emotion behind those words that revealed more than that.  
“Cuckquean,” He corrected.  
“Cuckquean?”  
“It’s cuckold but for women.”   
“Right. Besides, it’s such a foolish thing to do. If it gets out that you’re sleeping with other women, the scandal will be enormous and everything we’re doing now will be for nothing. In fact, it will be worse if they think you’re cheating on your wife!”  
“Like I said, I will be discreet.” He stated seriously, “I’ll need one last thing.”  
She groaned.   
“The pre-nup will include that you will not be entitled to any of my estate or earnings after the divorce.”  
“Of course. And I will need you to pay me alimony after our divorce.”  
“Excuse me? Did I hear you correctly?”  
“Yes I suspect that you did. I will need alimony.”  
“Granger, you do realize this is a fake marriage right?”  
“Yes but for all intents and purposes, it is real. I will need an alimony.”  
“I’ve already agreed to provide you with a generous stipend during our marriage and to fund your lab afterwards.”  
“Yes, an excellent concession. Let’s add alimony to that list.”  
“What will I get in return?”  
“You can sleep with whomever you want,” she put up her finger dramatically, “in Malfoy manor.”  
“How very gracious of you,” he said, appreciating her maneuver and wondering if she had a little Slytherin in her after all.  
“I will draft up the agreement and we can tie ourselves with an unbreakable vow,” He stated. She nodded in agreement.  
Hermione got up to leave but Malfoy was already opening a bottle of 1940 Meriada Vernique.   
“It’s worth about nine thousand pounds today,” he boasted.  
“You really want to open that today?” Hermione balked.   
“It’s not everyday your nemesis agrees to become your wife.” He said, flashing her that deeply charismatic smile he’d used on her several times already.   
“I’m not your nemesis,” she grumbled but took the proffered flute.  
“Not anymore,” he grinned, “Here’s to doing whatever it bloody well takes to succeed in this dog eat man world.” She didn’t bother to correct him, finding that she liked this version of the idiom better.  
“Let the games begin,” they downed the golden liquid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you liked it (or not)! Apologies for any errors - I’ve yet to find a good beta but hopefully soon!


	5. FIVE

The kiss, for all intents and purposes was quite lovely. He had leaned in, tilted his head and kissed her. Hermione, after being scolded the previous day for her ability to resemble a corpse while being kissed, responded by kissing him back.  
“That’s the shittiest kiss I’ve ever seen,” Demitria snapped. “I’ve seen hags embody more passion in their kiss than you two.”  
“There was nothing wrong with that kiss. We did everything right,” Hermione said indignantly, insulted at being compared to two hags. Draco clearly didn’t appreciate being ousted by said hag either.  
“Everything right? It looks mechanical! You could have been kissing a mannequin or your brother. There is no spark, no... passion.” Demitria’s frustration bled into her accent which thickened with her emphasis.  
“We aren’t in love. Not even in lust. It’s quite hard to fake passion when you’re severely lacking in it.” Hermione stated as a matter-of-factly.  
“It’s quite hard to fake passion for an annoying harpy like Granger,” Draco added unnecessarily.  
Hermione glared at him, “I am not a harpy you incompetent ferret boy!”  
“Not particularly creative either I see. You’re still using that tired old nickname?” Draco scoffed.   
“Back to the point here! Regardless of your personal feelings, you need to show you want to bone each other at every opportunity!” Demitria interjected. Their conversations routinely ended with the two verbally assaulting each other and Demi wondered if Mrs.Weasley dealt with this daily, having raised seven brats.  
“Why does it need to be passionate? Most people don’t go out making out with their fiances regularly,” Hermione argued.  
“You would be right...if you were Clair Vanderhast and Jules Pint.”  
“Who?”  
“Exactly! They’re ambiguous, unknown entities who could get away with a passable kiss beeaccuuseee no one cares! You two are about to become the hottest topic on the page of every major magazine.” she said ardently, “You are going to be scrutinized by the entire wizarding community both here and abroad. You need to show that you are passionately in love and that Draco is a changed man if you want to improve his image!"  
“I’m with Granger on this one. Why exactly do I need to show passion? Is it not enough to marry a muggleborn witch to show that I’ve overcome my bigoted upbringing?” The last bit came out as a sneer. He just couldn’t help himself could he?  
Demitria rubbed the bridge of her nose and then sat down, dramatically pausing as if talking to children which she most certainly was.   
“Draco, you’ve just been caught in an incident which makes the majority believe that you are still very much a bigot. Marrying Hermione will show those people that you have overcome your ways but only if you sell it. If you don’t then while some may suspend their skepticism, and truly they must be blind because your acting skills are abysmal, most people will believe it is a publicity stunt. Don’t think they’ll give Hermione the benefit of the doubt either! They will be quick to implicate her too. No one is beyond reproach. If this goes badly, at best they’ll think she was coerced or under a love potion, worst they’ll suspect collusion.”  
“This is ridiculous! It’s a bloody kiss, not an interrogation.” Hermione grouched.  
“You just don’t get it do you?” Demitria turned on Hermione like a tiger on its prey, “You aren’t going to face a court of law! You’re facing a court of popular opinions. In an age of social media, perception is everything. If you are trying to rehabilitate your image, what other people believe is the only thing that matters. You won’t have a place to explain or make an argument for yourselves for any injustice your receive.” She turned to Draco, “This will impact you most. Hermione can get away without pandering to the public because her legacy speaks for itself. Also, her career doesn’t depend on her public image like yours does.”  
That seemed to sober him up.  
“Again. Kiss again!” She snapped her fingers as if in a play and seated herself in the chair facing them once more.  
They paused awkwardly and leaned in again, kissing gently and-  
“Oh Meriada, luche com mito! Meriada smite me!”  
“What now?” Hermione snapped. She was really not appreciating this side of Demi. Until very recently, Hermione had only known Demi in a social capacity and she found that she didn’t much appreciate being ordered about, friend or stranger.   
“Passion. You’re lacking!”  
“Maybe you’re just biased from being in on the plan,” Hermione suggested.   
“I hate to agree with you Granger but you might be right. Let’s pick this up tomorrow Demitria.”   
“Work on your kiss please. You both sit so far away from each other that it looks like you’re afraid to touch one another. No one is going to believe this lie if isn’t passable.” She stated before sauntering away.  
Hermione had to wonder if some of the irritation came from her frustrations in her personal life.  
“Alright Granger, I’ve asked my secretary to set up a lunch date for us tomorrow at Torque. Be there at noon.”  
“We have a lunch date? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”  
“I’m telling you about it now.” Draco snapped impatiently, “It’s at-”  
“Torque is quite public.”  
“That’s the point is it not? Or do you suggest I marry you in secret before springing it out to the real world?”  
“That’s not what I mean! Before we publicize our relationship, you need to hold up your end of the bargain.”  
“Which was what?”  
“You promised me a new position!” Hermione lamented.  
“Which I will do once you do your part.”  
“No. First you get me the job I requested, then we begin seeing each other in public.”  
“That wasn’t the deal. The deal was that you hold up your end of the bargain and I provide you a position when the time is right.” Draco said adamantly.  
“No the deal was to get the position before our wedding so I won’t be questioned whether I earned my position or if you bought it for me.”  
“If you think that they won’t gossip about the reason behind your new position, you’re stupider than I originally anticipated.”  
“Don’t be a condescending git Malfoy.”  
“Then don’t be naive. You’ll be a Malfoy soon. Everything will be scrutinized.”  
Hermione closed her eyes and breathed in several calming breaths before continuing, “I would like you to get me this position before we begin our public endeavors.”  
“We need to begin rehabilitating my image immediately!”  
“Malfoy, please,” Hermione pleaded, becoming more anxious. “A few weeks won’t tarnish your reputation any worse than it already has been. Besides, Draco…” Hermione tried, but the look he gave her rethink her choice of using his first name. “Ma...Malfoy, I need to tell Harry and Ron about ...this. I need time.”  
“You have till tomorrow.” She wondered if this is how he closed deals. Hermione wasn’t used to arguing and begging people for something she needed. More often than not, she dealt with people who were willing to accommodate her and when she went up against more difficult personalities, she usually lost.   
“Please. Let’s not start off on the wrong foot,” She reached out to touch his hand and he snatched it like she was about to stab him with a fork. “Let me tell them and get situated in this elusive position you’ve promised me so that it doesn’t all look like a quid pro quo. Maybe...maybe I can owe you one if you can just let me have this.”  
The grin that spread over his face was definitely a bad omen. ”  
“Fine. We’ll begin our public charades after you’ve been installed but tell Potty and the Red Herring so they won’t cause a scene later.” Red Herring. That was a new one.   
“I’ll ask Demitria to plan our events and discuss them with us.”  
“Events?” Hermione asked dumbly.  
“Yes Granger! Events-our public dates, meeting the families, the wedding, all this has to be planned out.” The irritation was raw on his face.   
“We need to plot out when each...event is going to happen?” she asked cautiously, her voice belying her confusion.  
“This is why you weren’t promoted Granger,” Malfoy snapped abrasively. Hermione stayed silent, ignoring the jibe.  
“We should plan everything to ensure that we proceed in a timely manner. I am working on a way to get you a reasonable position after which we will proceed to date publicly and we will marry in six months.”  
“Wait what? Hold on!”  
“Gods Granger, are you going to fight me all the way to the altar?” he ran his hand through his hair, seemingly in a state of perpetual irritation.  
“I didn’t realize we’d be married to soon! My friends need time to get accustomed to you. I need time to tell my family..my...erm my parents…,” She faltered but decided to revisit that topic later when needed. “Won’t it seem suspicious if we only date for six months?”  
“Holy crap you’re as dense as a block of cement. We’re obviously going to be ‘caught’ dating and when we are, we will reveal to everyone that we’ve been dating for a year.”  
“Oh god,” Hermione groaned, imagining telling Harry and Ron that she’d been lying to them for the last six months.

 

OOO

The weeks of being buried in dirty laundry, eating take out and binge watching Outlander had finally come to an end. One fine Wednesday afternoon, Hermione received the symbolic blue falcon from Draco, informing her about her acquired position. She felt a sickening guilt wash over her as she read about it, knowing she’d claimed this title in the most dishonest way possible. She had railed against this type of nepotism and now she was actively perpetuating it. Did two wrongs make a right in the end? 

She was called to the FWR to attend an interview with the head of the newly founded Biomaegistry department run by wizened alchemist, Aaron Zurius who reminded Hermione painfully of Albus Dumbledore. Zurius was an old pureblood family and Hermione was surprised that he was running the Biomaegistry department which intersected heavily with muggle science.

The position she interviewed for was a senior scientist position with opportunities for promotion within a year. She would be conducting her own research with a team of scientists with the aim of understanding the genetic differences between wizards, muggles and squibs.   
“We plan on establishing the department of Genetic Medicine which you might help run,” Zurius commented with a wink. Hermione’s blood had run with excitement at the prospect. Things were looking up!

She inquired about the similarity of the project to the work she’d been doing at the WI and the aging wizard had explained that that’s why she was a perfect candidate for this position.  
“It is true Dr. Granger that the projects are very similar. The minute but significant difference is that while their project aims to elucidate the link between wizards and squibs through parentage, our project aims to decipher the genetic and epigenetic differences between the various types of magical orientations.” Epigenetics, the inherited trait that did not permanently alter the gene code itself.  
He continued, “Ultimately we want to create therapies for squibs and the magically-challenged to become full fledged wizards. But of course, we need to start by understanding the fundamental differences.”

The term magically-challenged had become a charged word recently. Many argued that they and squibs were fine the way they were and that conducting research to ‘fix’ them was unethical as it stemmed from the foundation that they were incomplete somehow. 

Hermione understood there was an issue with the stigma such people endured but she didn’t think curbing research was the correct strategy.

Aaron discussed her duties as the head of the project and what types of experiments she would be running. She was shown the newly renovated facilities on the seventeenth floor with state of the art equipment and spell work, protecting and assisting the scientists with their work.

That night she was offered the position. She celebrated with her friends, even reaching out to Ron by using her success as a bridge to mend the gap.   
She almost wished she hadn’t when he told her See I told you everything would work out. There’s no big conspiracy!

OOO  
“I’ll take a small margarita and fries please,” Hermione told the waitress and handed her the menu.   
“Margarita by noon, this must be exciting indeed!” Ginny said grinning.   
When Hermione had first become acquainted with the red head, given Ginny’s fiery personality, inclinations and disposition, she’d assumed they would stay acquaintances and tolerate one another for the sake of Harry and Ron. 

Over the years Ginny had been understanding and compassionate even when Hermione didn’t expect her to. She showed remarkable empathy about matters she couldn’t have had experience with. While she loved Harry and Ron and knew they would travel to the ends of the earth to save her if needed, and indeed they had, they had a penchant for violence and tantrums in place of discussion and empathy. 

Ginny, on the other hand, always showed empathy when dealing with Hermione and her happiness for the brunette was always genuine. She was also reserved in both her criticism and skepticism, something neither of her other friends practiced, so when Ginny gave Hermione a dosage of reality, Hermione knew it came from a good place rather than it being reactionary.   
She hoped Ginny would once again support her in this moment. 

She’d tactfully invited the three of them together, hoping that Ginny would dilute any acerbic concentrations the boys might throw at her. 

“Or it must be bad if you’re calling us for a drink during the middle of the day.” Ron intoned suspiciously.  
Hermione swallowed a big mouthful of the bitter-sweet liquid and forced herself to grin. She had to look excited, not terrified.   
“I have news but...you have to promise you aren’t going to freak out.”   
“Not exactly a good omen is it?” Ron said.  
“I mean...it’s good...it’s just....,” Hermione looked uncomfortable.  
“Can we guess?” Ginny again.  
Hermione gestured the affirmative.  
“You’re buying a house!”   
“That was a good guess but no.”  
“You got promoted!” Ron exclaimed, feeling the stirring of sibling rivalry.  
“No I’m the head of my department. I just got this post.”  
“You’re pregnant!!” Ginny positively screamed, almost foaming at the mouth. Some days Hermione just wondered what bowl of insanity she had fished her friends out of.  
“What? I-”  
“What you’re pregnant? Who is the father Hermione?” The nuance was clearly lost on Ron.  
“Are you still with him?” Harry was now on the bandwagon.  
“Did he hurt you? Tell me I’ll hex his balls off.” Ron, suddenly threatening.  
“Who is it? Who did you sleep with?” Ginny looked gleeful for the gossipy details.  
“I swear to Merlin Hermi-”  
“GUYS! For goodness’s sake calm down.” Hermione slammed her hands on the table. The conversation in the pub dipped as people turned to look at her outburst. Embarrassed, she seated herself.  
“First of all, I am not buying a house and I am most certainly not pregnant! It’s something else entirely. I...I am seeing someone. I’m seeing a wonderful someone,” She hoped that the fake smile and her joyful disposition looked authentic. She would happy them so hard that they would have no chance to be upset with her and yes happy was indeed a verb in this instance.   
“Well who is it?”  
“I feel like I need to preempt this by say-”  
“SPIT IT OUT HERMIONE I’M DYING!” Ginny was almost as red as a beetroot, her blue eyes shining with mania. Hermione really had to get that girl tested. She got so crazy when it came to Hermione’s love life.  
“I’mdatingdracomalfoy.”  
“What? Who is Imdatinfay?”  
“I’m dating Draco Malfoy.”  
Hermione had expected an outcry but for the breath of seven heartbeats there was a deafening silence.  
“WHAT THE ACTUAL FU-”  
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME? HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?”  
“UCK. ARE YOU SLEEPING WITH HIM?”  
Hermione put her face in her palms, willing them to shut up. Maybe this hadn’t been such a sane idea. She should have definitely have drunk that 70proof she’d stolen from her last lab. Or maybe she should have smoked that blunt Ron had hid in her utensils cupboard months ago knowing she wouldn’t approve of him smoking in her house. At the least, she’d be mentally unavailable for some of this madness.   
The three of them spent a few more seconds screaming and letting out their dismay, frustration, alarm.   
“Ron, shut up and sit down,” Ginny snapped, the image of Hermione sobering her up. “You too Harry.”  
“But she’s dating Mal-”  
“I’m aware. Just sit down and let’s talk-”  
“-what’s there to talk about? She’s dating a fascist fucking ferret!”  
“Nice alliteration but seriously sit down and be quiet.”  
“Hermione, honey, what’s going on?” Ginny asked and there was concern in her eyes when Hermione looked up.   
“Are you-” Ron started but Ginny shot him a look so poisonous that he shut his mouth again. She was really turning into Mrs.Weasley.  
“Malfoy...erm...Draco...He’s changed a lot Gin. He’s nothing like he used to be. He’s...he’s…” Hermione ran through adjectives she could describe him that they would appreciate but she found that none came to mind. Honestly, she thought of him as a conceited little shit who she still wanted to punch through a wall. Not for the ninetieth time did she wonder whether she was signing a deal with the devil.   
Instead she thought of another Slytherin, one she knew intimately that she could elaborate on. One whose neck she’d rather wrap her arms around than wring.  
“He’s charming and kind. He’s considerate at times.” Her voice was heavy with emotion, “He’s deeply passionate, loving. He’s well read and funny. He’s so much different than he used to be and I...I’m so in...love with him.”   
There was a film of liquid in her eyes now, threatening to flow if she didn’t quell her emotions. Talking about him still hurt her even after all these months but she pushed those feelings down.

“I think I can speak for everyone here when I say we’re a bit concerned. He bullied all of us but he was especially nasty to you all throughout Hogwarts and now suddenly you’re claiming that he’s a changed man?”  
“Believe me Gin. I’m as surprised as you are,” No I’m not. ”that things are different between us. He was horrible at school, I admit.” Now reel them in. “but he’s truly changed.”   
Ginny looked at her hard and then whispered the obvious, “He said the M word...in a public Hermione.”  
“Exactly, clearly proof he hasn’t changed.” Ron piped up but otherwise let his sister handle this interrogation.  
“It was a slip of the tongue.”  
“Was it really? I don’t see myself slipping. None of us have ever used that word. You have to use a word like that often enough for that to be a slip up. Hermie.”   
“I assure you he does not. I was furious after that incident and he apologized, sincerely. Look guys, I understand that this is a lot to take in but I just want you to give him a chance.” And when they looked unimpressed, she pleaded, “Please.”  
“How long has this been going on Hermione?” Harry asked.   
“Two months.”  
“You’ve kept it a secret for that long?” Harry replied.  
“It’s only two months, it can’t possibly last!” Ron voiced simultaneously.   
Ginny silently observed Hermione in the way of those who are sure they are being lied to.  
“I’m taking Hermione home,” She proclaimed against the complaints from the boys, ”You can harass her tomorrow.”  
“We weren’t harassing her-” Harry protested but Ginny was already dragging Hermione out. 

OOO  
When they reached Ginny’s apartment, Hermione visibly relaxed.   
Ginny made them each cocktail and situated herself on her living room sofa. Remnants of her former flame remained in the apartment and Hermione felt a pang of pain on behalf of her friend. This sofa was one such memory. It’s intricately interlaced golden embroidery contrasted with the rich wine background of the living room. Hermione thought it was a beautiful setting, much preferring it to the original plain walls and junkyard sofa. She often wondered what had happened and if they would ever resolve whatever issue had transpired between them. Ginny had been tight lipped about it and Hermione hadn’t wanted to press her friend.

“I didn’t want to question you too much at lunch but Hermione please, tell me what’s really going on.”  
“Ginny like I said, I’ve been dating Malfoy for a few months now and I wanted to tell you guys about it. We met at an event and we started talking. One thing led to another-”  
“-what did you talk about first?”  
“-what? Erm...well house elves for one,” Hermione was floundering. She’d expected the riled up fury of her two guy friends but hadn’t thought she’d be subject to Ginny’s analytical interrogation.   
“House elves huh?”   
“Yes we...well...I was quite upset with the fact that he owns them.”  
“When did you say this meeting was?”  
“Two...two and a half months must be?”  
“And you were upset with him owning house elves?”  
“Yes.”  
“How did he take that?”  
“Badly as you could presume.”  
“Why is that?” Hermione felt like she was being led to her slaughter. She belatedly realized that in her blind panic, she’d mistakenly said they’d been dating for two months and not six.  
“Why are you asking about this?” Hermione tried to let out a casual laugh.  
“What did he say about the house elves that he has?”  
“Well...initially he was very reluctant to see them as intelligent creatures and we got into an argument. He suggested lunch to further discuss our disagreement and that turned into-”  
“So you insisted on freeing his elves and he refused?”  
“Yes. Exactly.”  
“Has he released them since?”  
“Erm… I believe so.”  
“Hermione. Draco Malfoy doesn’t own house elves.”  
Hermione froze, the cocktail held to her lips. “Hmm?”  
“Draco Malfoy released the house elves over four years ago at Pansy’s behest.” Her friend had indeed lured her into this chasm of her own lies. It was an interrogation technique they’d learned during the war and Hermione was stupider than a two celled bunny.   
“I see.”   
“Tell me the truth. What’s going on? You hated his guts and I wager you still do. In fact just three months ago he said all that crap and you were furious about it. None of this makes any sense.”  
Hermione, wanted to kick herself for her complacency and weakness but if there was one thing she’d been good at in the field, it was fast thinking. A shot of inspiration sprang to her mind on how to extricate herself.  
“Ok fine!” She threw up her hands and stood up, pacing and allowing her nervousness to seep into her voice. “I didn’t think any of you would approve, given what happened with...you know the last time.” She avoided saying that other Slytherin bastard’s name. She was afraid her voice would betray her true emotion and the charade would be up. She calculated carefully how long ago it was that she’d talked about the bastard who’d broken her heart ten times over and decided on the lie.  
“You’re right. I wasn’t entirely truthful.”  
“Ok tell me now,” Ginny reasoned gently, placated with the promise of truth.   
“I...you know right before I lost my job, I was losing my mind Ginny. I’ve been working myself to death and I...I just hadn’t been with anyone for so long,” She tugged her hair over her face, shame filling her voice, “I just wanted someone you know? I went back to the same club I met…”  
“..Theo” Ginny quipped for Hermione, sensing her friend’s reluctance.  
“...right...and I was just in a bad place Gin. I spent many nights there drinking and hooking up with men whose faces I can’t even remember. One night I bumped into him and I was so angry, I just started a row with him but we...we ended up in bed. You know...sexual tension and all. It was entirely physical at first but we had more things in common than I had expected. I really fell for him.” Hermione wanted to gag, imagining shagging him with that perpetually nasty sneer on his face.  
“Why didn’t you tell me?”  
“I didn’t want to explain all this to Harry and Ron.”  
“But it’s me.” Ginny said, looking pained.   
“I know I’m sorry Gin.” Hermione said, sitting back down and touching her arm, “I know you would be supportive. It’s just that...haha you’re the voice of reason and I was sure you’d dissuade me from seeing him after what happened with...with...Theo.”  
“Hermione…” Ginny looked at her with such compassion that Hermione wanted to tell her the truth in that moment more than anything else, “I’m so happy you found someone. Truly. I support you...but if he hurts you, so help me Rowena, I will hunt him down and disembowel him.” She looked at Hermione pointedly and they both knew this was a real threat. She had the medical knowledge to back that claim.  
“I know Gin,” Hermione cracked a smile.   
Ginny laughed and hugged her friend, kissing her on the cheek, “So, how big is his dick?”  
“GINNY!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for such a long delay in between chapters guys! I’ve just been overwhelmed with class and work. Thank you for all your reviews and support. I’ve been receiving an intermittent stream of reviews and I can’t tell you how much it meant to be told that you guys enjoyed my chapters and want to read more. I tried to keep the technical info short but it is really really important for the plot progress.  
> And I'm working on getting a beta so please bear with my grammar and spelling errors. I tried to fix them as best I could but sometimes they just slip my reviews, those slimy little errors.  
> <3 SynS

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed :) If you liked it, pls comment to let me know what you liked or disliked.  
> 


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